Dear Mokuba,
by Bounced
Summary: All hope was lost in the search for Seto Kaiba. But one day, a book is discovered with entries entitled, "Dear Mokuba."
1. Chapter 1

Notes: This takes place in a separate storyline from the show. The timeline will become clearer as the story progresses, but one important thing to know is that Seto was kidnapped before he had the chance to take over KaibaCorp.

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><p><strong>Chapter One:<strong>

Mokuba sat at his desk, staring blankly at the sheets spread out before him. They all looked the same. It was all he ever saw anymore. The numbers printed upon the perfectly smooth white sheets, all of which discussed something that was far beyond his knowledge. He worked on unknown formulas and projects daily, never bothering to ask what the purpose was. It didn't matter.

He was aware of the seconds on the clock ticking down. His adopted father had chosen to place a large clock directly above him so that it was always leering down while he sat below. Every second that passed was another moment that Mokuba let his assignments slide. It was another second that separated him from his brother. It was another second wasted.

The Kaiba heir had lost his motivation to succeed. After four years of rigorous training, finding reasons to continue often proved more challenging than the reports he was forced to go through. The numbers and designs were meaningless. What did he care for war? His brother hadn't cared, so why should he?

In a quick motion, Mokuba ran his arm across the desk and scattered the files. They fell gently to litter the floor around his desk. As the last one landed, the teen let his head fall too, though it landed on the now-bare desk. The boy's black hair settled into a position that covered his face, but he was too lazy to brush it away. He found that with the newly formed black wall, the view of the clock disappeared. Maybe for just that moment, he might be able to forget about its existence.

The door to his room opened, but Mokuba didn't look up. Whether he was punished for the papers being on the floor or taking a break from working didn't matter. The result would be the same.

"Sit up," came the stern command.

Mokuba's body automatically responded by straightening his back. He rolled his eyes at the reflexes his muscles had developed under his adopted father's hand.

"Why are the files on the floor?"

Mokuba turned to glance at Gozaburo, the man he had been ordered to refer to as his father. Gozaburo was angry, but that was typical of most days. He crossed his arms as he stood over his son, glaring down just as the clock continued to do.

"I got tired of looking at them," Mokuba answered honestly.

"Were they too difficult for you to comprehend?" Gozaburo spat.

"No sir."

"Then why are you not working on them?"

"I didn't want to."

When the fist connected with the back of Mokuba's head, he barely responded. Physical pain he could handle. That was not new to him. It was the emotional pain that weighed heavy inside. That overpowered any injury Gozaburo might inflict.

"That is no excuse."

"It wasn't supposed to be," Mokuba stated, earning another slap.

"Pick them up and finish them. I cannot understand how this takes you so long. You are seventeen years old. Your brother could complete these within an hour when he was twelve."

Mokuba's eyes narrowed as he continued to glare at Gozaburo. His adopted father could rarely let a day pass without reminding him of how he failed to reach his brother's level of intellegence. It was not the comparison that offended Mokuba, but the lack of regard to how the words would hurt.

"Well I'm not Seto."

"And such a shame that is."

Mokuba shifted his gaze downwards to avoid the expression of disgust on his adopted father's face. The accusation was unfair. How could Gozaburo expect him to be Seto? Mokuba's brother had been born with a natural talent for learning; Mokuba had not. He never claimed to possess even a portion of his brother's intellegence. Claiming such would detract from his brother's legacy.

The doorbell rang, cutting through the silence that had taken over the household. It went ignored by both Kaibas until a minute later, it rang a second time.

"Hobson! Answer the door!" Gozaburo shouted. No sooner had he finished his command than he said to Mokuba, "Pick up the papers."

Not wanting to push Gozaburo's patience any further, Mokuba slid out of his chair and got on his knees. Doing so put him directly beside Gozaburo's feet, a fact which Mokuba attempted to push out of his mind. He picked up the papers carefully, making every attempt not to wrinkle any of them further.

"Mr. Kaiba," said a voice coming through the intercom. "The detectives are here to see both you and the young Mr. Kaiba."

Mokuba froze in his place. It had been over a year since the police had last contacted the Kaibas. That visit had been short. It lasted only long enough for a detective to explain that Seto's case had hit a dead end. There were no more leads to follow, no suspects remained. The case had run cold.

They left with the parting words, "We will contact you if anything turns up," a phrase which could clearly be understood as, "When we find his body, we will let you know."

Mokuba had held out the hope that as long as he didn't hear from the police, his brother was still alive. But with their arrival, he feared the worst.

Even Gozaburo seemed a bit shaken. As he walked to the intercom to respond, his steps lacked their arrogant air. Mokuba assumed that he too had held some hope that his prodigy still lived, that his less capable son would not remain his only heir.

"We will be down in a moment," Gozaburo answered.

He stared down at Mokuba, who still knelt on the floor, and said, "Let's go."

It took every ounce of force Mokuba possessed to get to his feet. Each step that he took towards the officers took time away in which his brother was still alive. The longer he delayed, the longer he could believe that.

Gozaburo walked through the door leading to the sitting room, but Mokuba hesitated outside. He took his time composing himself, to prepare his mind for the inevitable news. He would not break down in the room. He would keep a straight face with whatever the officers had to say. After all, he knew it was coming. He had always known.

Stepping inside, Mokuba noted that the men were actually some of the detectives that had worked on Seto's case. Their faces were familiar, but their names escaped him. Though at that point in time, he could not see how it made a difference. Whoever they were, they carried the news that Mokuba had been waiting to hear for the past several years. They had information about Seto.

"Please sit down," one of them said. He gestured to the couch where Gozaburo was already sitting, and Mokuba walked over silently.

As he took his seat, Mokuba folded his hands in his lap in an attempt to appear calm. But he dug a fingernail into his palm to distract himself from feeling any emotions.

"I'm Detective Corwin and this is my partner Detective Granlil. We worked the Seto Kaiba case, as I am sure you recall."

Corwin waited as if expecting a response. When none came from either Kaiba, he continued. "As you are aware, his case has been considered cold for the past year, although a small team was still assigned. There had not been any real leads, just a few small things that turned up empty."

Mokuba's foot began to tap involuntarily. The detective was dragging out the news and Mokuba wasn't sure how much longer he could sit still.

"That changed yesterday."

A deep breath filled Mokuba's lungs, making him realize that he had not been breathing. His nail dug further into his palm as he waited to hear what had turned up.

Corwin could clearly see Mokuba's anxiety, so he continued quickly, "We were contacted yesterday by a rental home landlord. One of his renters had failed to pay for the past several months, so he entered the house. When he did so, he found it empty. But as he went through, he discovered a notebook filled with letters. All of these letters are entitled, 'Dear Mokuba.'"

When Corwin stopped speaking there, his partner spoke up, "It wasn't only that, but the first series of letters were signed, 'Seto Kaiba.'"

Mokuba couldn't breathe once more. The hands that had been laying in his lap moved to cover his mouth in an attempt to keep from gasping in shock. But the question rose to his lips and he had to voice it. "You mean he has been in this city the entire time?"

Both detectives nodded.

"If he was in the city, how could you not find him?" Gozaburo questioned.

"The house was rented under a fake name and there were no ties to the case."

"And this is a lead you can actually pursue?" Gozaburo asked.

"Yes sir. Although the name associated with the house was a dead end, we are currently going through searching for DNA that will link us to a new suspect. It is a fairly large house and we are certain that something inside will lead us in the right direction," Granlil said.

"So is he alive?" Mokuba whispered.

"As far as we know, he is."

He couldn't stop the quiet sobs that took over his body. Mokuba buried his face in his hands as he began to cry tears of relief. He had been expecting to hear the worst news upon entering the room. But to hear that Seto was still alive? He had not expected that.

Corwin went on. "None of his letters are dated. One of the notes towards the middle of them said that it had been two years, and he wrote many more after that."

"Did any of his letters say who kidnapped him?" Gozaburo asked.

"No, I'm afraid they didn't. He gave no details to help lead us to his location or the man who took him."

"But you know it is a man?" Gozaburo pressed.

"Yes sir," Granlil began. "Seto often refers to the man, but he simply calls him, 'he.'"

Mokuba had finally gotten himself calm enough that he felt comfortable pulling his hands away from his face. He met Corwin's eyes and asked, "If they are addressed to me, can I read them?"

"The original copies are in evidence, but we made a copy for each of you. If you can read through them and see if there is anything we missed, it would be appreciated."

After speaking, Corwin reached to pick up a briefcase that Mokuba had failed to notice before. It opened with a click, and Corwin pulled out two bound stacks of paper. He leaned forward and handed one to each Kaiba.

Mokuba took his copy and immediately opened it to the first page. Ignoring the two detectives in the room, he began to read the first letter.

_Dear Mokuba, _

_He walked into the room today and proudly presented me this notebook. He claimed it to be a gift of some sort, as though I had been good enough to deserve one. It seems as though I have fallen into a depressed state. He must have assumed that giving me this notebook will make up for taking my life away. And it is one of the only forms of semi-entertainment that does not involve electricity. _

_He swore that he would not read anything I write in here. I don't give him much credibility. The man kidnapped me. Reading what I write down does not compare. _

_But whether or not he reads it does not matter. It is not as though he is blind to my anger or my desperation to get away from him. Nothing I write down is a secret. I either speak my mind or write it down; either way he knows. _

_ __I tried to escape. __Although he never mentioned it to me, I know that he knows it happened. The chain on my ankle is a sign of that. __A bit medieval, but affective at keeping me in place. Aside from the chain, it is as though my escape attempt never happened.__ Even I have almost forgotten. _

_I miss you, kid. Every time I wake up, I wonder what you are doing. I try to imagine your daily routine and how you spend your time. I think about how you are handling things. I try not to think about what he was been doing to you. Right now, I cannot handle that thought. _

_I don't know what I hope to accomplish by writing you these letters that will go unread. It is such an irrational concept. But then, so is my being kidnapped. There is nothing about this situation that is normal. In fact, everything about this situation is quite irrational. I am not kidnapped for ransom or to force Gozaburo's hand. And I know how abnormal that is. _

_So why not write to you, little brother? Why not say the things to you that I so badly need to say? But I know that I am writing to no one._

_-Seto Kaiba_

Mokuba's hands shook as he read over his brother's signature. There was no mistaking the perfectly formed letters as Seto's handwriting. Just seeing the name nearly brought Mokuba back to tears. His brother had written him letters during his time as a captive. He had not forgotten.

Gozaburo's body was stiff next to Mokuba. He had finished the first letter long before Mokuba and continued on, so Mokuba was unsure as to what could have put him so on edge. But if Seto's comment from the first letter were any sign, he spoke poorly of Gozaburo often. Had he mentioned the abuse Gozaburo put him through? And if so, what position would that put Gozaburo in?

Mokuba started to turn the page, but was cut off by Detective Granlil. "As I am sure you can see, we did discover some interesting things in his letters. Trust us, Mr. Kaiba, we will be sure to investigate thoroughly."

Gozaburo got to his feet, quickly followed by Corwin and Granlil. "We will let you know if we catch anything in his letters," he said sharply, dismissing the men.

The detectives nodded their understanding and prepared to leave. But before doing so, Corwin stopped to hand Mokuba his business card. "Be sure to call me if you need anything."

Mokuba stared at the card. In a conversation of double meanings, he knew what point the detective was trying to get across. They were not blind to Seto's references.

But Gozaburo still stood over Mokuba. His eyes burned down with an unspoken threat.

Mokuba took the card, but immediately laid it on the coffee table. "Yes sir," he said politely, then like the other men, got to his feet.

Hobson appeared in the doorway to walk the men to the front door. Both Gozaburo and Mokuba were silent as they left the room. But the moment they were out of sight, Gozaburo reached down to pick up Corwin's card, which he promptly shredded.

"Even when he is missing your brother is a nusiance," he muttered.

As the pieces of the card drifted to the floor, Mokuba pulled the copies of his brother's letters close to his chest. All of his questions might soon be answered, some of which by Seto himself. No matter what Gozaburo's reaction to the news might be, Mokuba stood relieved with the knowledge that Seto was alive.

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><p>This will probably be one of the longer chapters, which isn't that long to begin with. I'll be updating within the week.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Most all of these chapters will be showing how Mokuba deals with his life without Seto. The story has a plot, but it will be gradually progressing forward. Many of the chapters will be like this one, just a random scene in Mokuba's life. But the one thing that all chapters will have in common is a letter from Seto.

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><p><strong>Chapter Two:<strong>

Mokuba had read through his brother's letters dozens of times over. Although he had found nothing that might lead the police any closer to the kidnapper, he had found great comfort in staring at his brother's words. He kept the bound sheets with him always, afraid that Gozaburo might try to take them from him. Even as he sat at his desk making an attempt to type an essay, the letters sat in his lap.

The topic for his essay was not difficult. His British Literature tutor had ordered him to write several pages discussing the use of half-lines in Old English poetry. The subject was dull, and Mokuba could not concentrate on it.

He pressed his finger against keys at random, hoping that the paper would type itself. Unfortunately, the result was a string of nonsense that would never result in a passing grade. Mokuba moved his finger to hold down the delete button, erasing the letters and taking several completed sentences with them.

He sighed and closed his eyes. Ever since the visit from the detectives, he had been unable to focus on any of his assignments. Because of that, he work had begun to slack, and Gozaburo grew more angry with him.

Mokuba rubbed his hand over a healing cut on his arm. It didn't hurt anymore, but the sight of it made Mokuba realize that he needed to get his work done properly.

But his bedroom was suffocating. With the clock hanging above him, the stacks of uncompleted assignments, and the bed mocking him, Mokuba knew that he would not be able to get anything done if he stayed at his desk.

So Mokuba grabbed Seto's letters and a notebook. Maybe going outside would help inspire him. Whether or not it worked, he was willing to try. Anything would be better than staring at the sight of his blank word processor.

As soon as he stepped out of his room, Mokuba saw Gozaburo walking towards him.

"Where are you going?"

"I am going outside," Mokuba answered. He shifted the papers in his hands uncomfortably. Gozaburo never appreciated the fact that his heir carried around the letters from a long-missing brother as if they were essential to life. In most cases, Mokuba tried to keep them out of his view.

But Gozaburo saw the papers. He stared at Mokuba irritatedly and said, "Haven't you read those enough? There is nothing in them."

"Seto is in them," Mokuba said immediately.

Gozaburo shook his head. "Those letters are pointless. He might as well have been keeping a diary."

"May I go, sir?" Mokuba asked, wanting to get the subject away from Seto.

"I don't care what you do. Just make sure you have your work done before you even consider sleeping," Gozaburo said as he began to continue his walk down the hallway.

"Thank you, sir," Mokuba whispered as he passed. Mokuba didn't move until he was certain that Gozaburo had turned the corner. His adopted father had a bad habit of taking back his permissions to spite his son.

As soon as he was sure it was safe to leave, Mokuba traveled towards the backdoor. He had a destination in mind and was eager to reach it.

Mokuba stopped in front of a bench in the back garden. It was located close enough to the mansion that he had light to see his papers, but far enough away that he didn't feel the pressure coming from inside. If anywhere on the property could inspire him, this would be the place.

Placing the papers down beside him, Mokuba leaned his head back on the bench and stared up at the sky. He always liked the fact that the mansion was far enough away from the center of the city that he could see stars. It was one of the few things that was better than the orphanage home. No city lights could hinder his view.

As Mokuba watched, a star shot across the sky. Mokuba closed his eyes and whispered, "I wish for Seto to be safe."

When he opened his eyes, Mokuba grabbed for his brother's letters. The falling star had reminded him of one of the letters and he needed to read it. He had discovered that many of his brother's letters related to the events occurring in his daily life. He understood that Seto knew what he must be going through, as he himself had undergone the same treatment. Mokuba felt as though he was talking with Seto whenever he found a letter that related to the situation at hand.

So flipping to the proper page, Mokuba began.

_Dear Mokuba, _

_Remember that time that we sneaked out of the house really late? We weren't actually going anywhere, but we wanted to watch that meteor shower? We just laid in the backyard for hours. We didn't even talk. _

_That was my favorite night we spent in the mansion. Even the fact that I was punished extensively for it hasn't detracted from my enjoyment of that night. We so rarely had time completely alone like that. I knew when we moved into the mansion that I wouldn't be able to be the brother I wanted to be, so times like that were always important. We should have done that more often. _

_I don't think you ever really understood how much my life revolved around you. Ever since mom and dad died, I made it my goal to ensure you would always be provided for. There would have been other families to adopt the two of us, but none would have been able to give you what Gozaburo could. As long as I knew you would never have to worry about having a home and money, I could handle anything. _

_But now, I have no way of knowing if you are okay. the thought weighs heavy in my mind. Are you safe, Mokuba? Have you taken my place as the heir to KaibaCorp? I can imagine how much you would hate the hours of studying, then normal schoolwork, and barely any sleep. To make it worse, you hate coffee, so you wouldn't even have that to lean on. _

_I miss coffee. I miss almost everything about my old life. Mostly you, but some other things too. Coffee is probably ranked second, then technology. No, my own clothing would be third, then technology. _

_I miss that night where we watched the meteors. If you see any falling stars, make a wish for me. _

_-Seto Kaiba_

Mokuba closed the book of letters and placed it in his lap. He had seen several shooting stars since he first read over Seto's letter. And with every one, he had made a slightly different wish. Most all centered around his brother's safety and rescue, but there was the occassional one for his relief from boredom or his sanity.

Time flew away from him as he sat out under the stars. When Mokuba finally decided that he had to return indoors, he had to admit that he was no more inspired than when he had ventured out. Although he was uninspired, he felt closer to Seto. But that would not get his paper written.

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><p>A brief glimpse into Mokuba's life. The next chapter will have more plot in it (if you look carefully), and it will be out within the week.<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three:**

Mokuba jumped when the thunder echoed through the room. His movement was far from subtle, and it drew the gazes of Gozaburo and Roland. Both men were leaning over Gozaburo's desk and had been examining some papers before the interuption. Mokuba muttered an apology for distracting them and turned his head away.

Storms terrified the youngest Kaiba. He could not explain his fear of them, only that it was ever present. Often times he found that he was even afraid that a storm might occur.

Usually as people aged, fears would diminish, especially fears such as the weather. But Mokuba found that his fear only grew as the time passed. The cause of this growth was apparent. He no longer had his brother around to tell him everything would be okay. And even at seventeen, Mokuba still needed that reassurance.

"So if we install these new monitoring devices, it will eliminate the need for additional personel," Roland stated as he laid a manual on Gozaburo's desk.

"How much will that cut down on expenses?"

Mokuba cut out their conversation at that point. He knew that KaibaCorp was in a small financial crisis. Once Seto's letters had been found, bits of their content leaked to the press. As much as the world wanted to know the mystery behind Seto's kidnapping, they seemed far more interested in the hints at abuse the letters contained.

The police had yet to find concrete evidence against Gozaburo, but that didn't change the way people now saw the CEO. No one wanted to support a child abuser. Many of KaibaCorp's investors had dropped their support, which created a hole in the company's finances.

Thunder rolled outside once more, and for a second time, Mokuba jumped.

"Get out," Gozaburo stated, sounding annoyed. His eyes only left the manual long enough for him to say, "Go find somewhere else to work."

Mokuba nodded and quickly grabbed his laptop and Seto's letters. Spending any extended period of time in his adopted father's office made him uneasy. Gozaburo's order was welcomed.

Since Mokuba didn't have his own space in KaibaCorp to work, he didn't have a destination in mind when he exited the office. Mokuba wandered down the hallways, carrying his laptop under his arm and Seto's letters in his hands.

The people who passed him sent him sad looks, but didn't speak. Mokuba stopped making eye contact after the first few workers passed him. The unspoken words were clear. They pitied him because they assumed he was being abused. Although the assumption was true, Mokuba didn't appreciate the pity. If it really bothered them so badly, they should do something about it. But he understood that no one dared cross Gozaburo Kaiba. The man had the power to destroy lives, and such a thing could not be risked for one boy.

Mokuba soon grew tired of attracting the gazes of the workers as he walked down the hallway, so he decided that he needed to get away from everyone. But in such a hectic work environment, Mokuba was not sure where he should go. It was not as though there was a lot of extra rooms just sitting unoccupied.

But Mokuba did know of one. There was one room that had been empty for several years. Seto's office had not been touched since he was kidnapped. In the first few weeks of his absence, Mokuba had spent time sitting at Seto's desk. He found it to be somewhat comforting, as if he was close to his brother.

He stopped doing so after the first few months. With the realization that Seto might not be coming back, going to Seto's office began to hurt. It was like he was just mocking his own condition. Every time he sat in Seto's chair, the pain of his brother's absence began to build. After a while, just the thought of the office would nearly send him to tears.

Mokuba's fingers gently tapped the cover of Seto's letters. They had a lead. The police told him that they were far more confident in their chances of finding Seto. If the police had hope, couldn't Mokuba?

He approached the office and twisted the doorknob slowly, glad to find that it was unlocked. Gozaburo told him that he was not supposed to go inside, so if it had been locked, it would not have surprised him.

What was more surprising was the state of the room. The cleaning staff had continually kept it up, so it was in perfect condition. Mokuba had been expecting it to look as though it had been abandoned for four years, not as though Seto had just left. Maybe he was not the only person who was looking for his brother to return.

Mokuba laid his laptop down on the desk and sat in Seto's chair. He was about to pull his feet up when thunder sounded once more. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to block the storm out of his mind. When that failed to work, he opened up the notebook of letters. Although it had only been a few weeks since the letters were found, Mokuba had already gone through them enough that the pages were beginning to wear. He had even accidentally torn several. So as he flipped to the one he was searching for, he made sure every page was treated gently.

_Dear Mokuba, _

_It is storming outside. Although I cannot see the rain, I can hear it on the roof. I can hear the thunder and feel it shake the house. _

_I know how much you hate storms. But I find myself happy to hear it. For the first time since I have been here, I feel as though I have some contact with the outside world. I know what is happening on the other side of the walls. It is not much contact, but it is enough to give me some manner of comfort. _

_Since I don't know where I am, I cannot say that you are sitting through the same storm. I like to think that you are, although that would make you scared right now. I say that because if you hear the same thunder as me, I haven't been taken far. If I haven't been taken out of the city, shouldn't that make it easier to find me?_

_And there is my typical wishful thinking that I feel compelled to include in every letter. I'll move on. _

_What do you do during storms now? Do you still run to my bedroom? I wouldn't mind if you did. I miss those nights, even if we did get in trouble every time. I never liked you getting scared, but I like that you still needed me. I had no way to protect you against the weather, but you seemed to believe I could. __But now, it has been so long that I worry you won't need me at all when I get back. I am certain that you are developing a strong sense of independance just as I did while living under Gozaburo's roof. He has most likely started training you, but I hope he is taking a different approach than he did with me. I tell myself that you are fine. The only thing you have to fear is the storm._

_-With confidence in you,  
>Seto Kaiba<em>

Mokuba turned the chair around so that he could see out the window. He watched the rain roll down the glass and wondered the same question as his brother. Were they experiencing the same storm?

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><p>Another short one, but I did say that most of them would be short. I did say there would be some plot, and it is there, just not too much. It will really pick up in a chapter or two.<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four:**

**Warning: Abuse.**

"Get down here!" Gozaburo's voice shouted through the intercom.

Mokuba had been about to go to sleep when he heard his adopted father's order. He had already been in bed, but his exhaustion was not enough to keep him still.

He immediately jumped out of bed and ran to the door. If Gozaburo was shouting at him at such a late hour, something had to be wrong. Either that, or he was drunk. But with the two options came one result.

His adopted father's bedroom was on the floor below Mokuba's, so he had to run in order to reach it in a timely manner. While he was sprinting through the hallways, he tried not to think about the fact that he was moving as quickly as he could just to be abused. Mokuba knew what was coming.

Once he had ignored Gozaburo's order to come. Mokuba had assumed that if Gozaburo couldn't find him, he could avoid the abuse. But what he failed to realize was that the punishment would be far worse if he did not obey. That was a mistake he never made a second time.

He knocked at Gozaburo's door. When it opened, Mokuba bit down on his lip. Gozaburo stood in front of him, but that wasn't what increased Mokuba's concern. The young Kaiba was focused on the bottle in his adopted father's hand. And Gozaburo was not just holding the beer bottle, but also his copy of Seto's letters. The combination terrified Mokuba.

Gozaburo silently stepped aside and Mokuba carefully walked in, doing his best to keep some distance between himself and his adopted father. Mokuba understood that he was just delaying the inevitable, but he couldn't help himself. He didn't want to know what had upset Gozaburo.

Gozaburo pointed to the center of the room. Mokuba had to draw in a shaky breath in order to develop the courage he needed to do as ordered. Even when Gozaburo was drunk, he followed the same series of steps. His routine never wavered.

Mokuba stopped in his usual spot and waited. He heard Gozaburo circling behind him, then the sloshing of beer as he took a large gulp.

"_Dear Mokuba,"_ Gozaburo began, clearing reading Seto's letter. His words slurred, indicating that the beer he was holding was not the first of the night. Mokuba couldn't help but flinch as Gozaburo attempted to mock Seto's voice.

"_He keeps asking me about the scars on my back. Earlier, he was lying behind me and tracing them," _Gozaburo read. As he did so, he stepped in front of Mokuba to catch his eye. Mokuba turned his head away, but Gozaburo used the bound pages to slap Mokuba, pulling his gaze back to him.

"Tell me Mokuba, why is it that his man can see your brother's scars?"

Mokuba didn't answer. He had read the letter more than once, and every time had tried to ignore that fact.

"Come now, boy. Tell me. Why is your brother lying naked in a bed with this man?" Gozaburo asked. His tone revealed his annoyance with Mokuba's lack of response. When Mokuba kept quite once again, Gozaburo grew angry and threw his bottle across the room. As it hit the wall, Mokuba flinched with the impact.

"Answer me!" Gozaburo shouted, then slapped Mokuba again.

"It isn't his choice," Mokuba whispered.

Gozaburo moved closer to Mokuba and used the letter to lift Mokuba's chin up. One glance into his adopted father's eyes proved to Mokuba that Seto's condition was not the cause of his anger. What Gozaburo was leaving out was the very fact that Seto mentioned his scars. It was evidence that he had been abused by someone other than his kidnapper. It was information that was causing a great deal of trouble for the CEO.

"No? You don't think your brother has become a slut?"

Mokuba bit down on his lip once more to keep from saying something stupid.

"Tell me Mokuba, what is your brother doing for that man? What do you think they are doing right now?" Gozaburo asked, moving even closer to Mokuba. He only stopped when he was inches from his adopted son. Mokuba slightly leaned away, an action that did not go unnoticed.

Gozaburo reached out a hand and pulled Mokuba back to his original position. "No ideas? I can tell you what they are doing. Your brother is on all fours, crying out as-"

"Stop!" Mokuba shouted, much to the surprise of his adopted father.

"You can't handle the truth? You can't accept the fact that your brother is nothing more than a bed slave? Go ahead, admit it."

Mokuba shook his head.

Gozaburo pushed him backwards, nearly sending Mokuba falling to the ground. But Mokuba caught himself and held his gaze with Gozaburo.

"Get back here," Gozaburo ordered.

Mokuba stepped forward, only to have Gozaburo push him back again. This time he fell. As Mokuba tried to get back to his feet, Gozaburo swiftly kicked out, knocking Mokuba flat on his back.

"Say it," Gozaburo ordered. "Call your brother a slut."

Mokuba shook his head again. "No."

Gozaburo knelt down next to Mokuba and raised his hand as if he was going to strike. Mokuba closed his eyes and waited for the impact, but it never came. He gently cracked his eyes open to see Gozaburo still staring down at him, hand raised.

"He practically said so himself. He knows what he has become, Mokuba," Gozaburo said. The hand he had raised descended to grab at Mokuba's jaw, pulling him up from the floor. "You seem to be the only person who doesn't accept that," Gozaburo added.

"Seto is not a slut," Mokuba forced out. Words were hard to form with a hand clenching his jaw closed.

Gozaburo laughed and threw Mokuba down. Gozaburo remained kneeling as he brought the letter back up to where he could read it.

"_He tried to get me to talk about how I got them, but I refused to answer. I'm just tired of thinking about them. Even when I'm kidnapped I can't escape the scars. I hate them,_" Gozaburo continued. He snorted as he read Seto's last sentence.

"I suppose it is rather convenient that your brother didn't mention exactly how he gained so many," Gozaburo stated.

Mokuba turned his head away. He wished that Seto had been straight forward and said that they were from Gozaburo. It that had happened, Mokuba knew he never would be lying on the floor at Gozaburo's feet.

"But are you ready? Here is where Seto gets sentimental," Gozaburo said. With his words, he stood and kicked Mokuba, but there was little force behind the blow. All it resulted in was to force Mokuba onto his side.

"_I don't regret anything that lead up to them. I always understood that each mark was one less for you,_" Gozaburo read, putting his version of sentiment in the sentences.

Quickly, Gozaburo kicked out at Mokuba again. "Too bad your brother wasn't here to take that one for you. He's too busy getting his kicks from someone else," Gozaburo said, smirking with his double meaning.

Mokuba wrapped an arm around his stomach, as if that would protect him from another kick. There would be no escape from Gozaburo until he was ready. And Mokuba knew how much longer the letter was. Was Gozaburo planning on reading it all?

"_They would have been for you, most of them at least. I did earn several myself. Maybe I regret those a little._"

Gozaburo adjusted his position so he was standing directly above Mokuba. Mokuba knew what was coming next in the letter, and he tried to mentally prepare for what he knew was coming.

"_I don't want to think that you might end up with scars like mine,_" Gozaburo quoted. Once he finished the sentence, he sent a kick harder than the last to Mokuba, bringing a groan to the teen's lips.

"I don't think Seto would like that very much, would he?" Gozaburo reached down and grabbed a fist full of Mokuba's shirt and pulled him to his feet. Mokuba's own hands grabbed at Gozaburo's but the attempt was useless. Even with his older age, Gozaburo was far stronger.

Gozaburo leaned close to Mokuba until his lips brushed against Mokuba's ear. "I guess it is a good thing he isn't here."

Mokuba jumped back as soon as he was free to do so. His arm returned to grab at his stomach, which was pulsing in pain. Mokuba knew better than to complain. He knew better than to beg. He knew better than to cry.

"_You are my little brother and I am supposed to protect you. I can't do that from here, and I can't handle that, Mokuba,_" Gozaburo continued. His words were harsh, although the meaning was far from.

Again, Gozaburo filled the space that separated the two Kaibas. Mokuba was not even given a moment to flinch before Gozaburo's fist slammed into his face, forcing Mokuba back several steps.

"Can Seto protect you from that? No, can't even protect himself."

The next time Gozaburo moved forward, Mokuba moved back. He couldn't help his body's reaction. Gozaburo smirked. As Mokuba continued to back up, his foot hit the bottle Gozaburo had thrown, and Mokuba realized that he had walked into a corner. His head fell when he noted the mistake.

"_Am I failing you as a brother? My every decision has been for you. Now what?"_

Gozaburo moved closer. "What do you say, Mokuba? Do you feel like you've been let down by your brother?"

Mokuba kept his mouth closed. The question was absurd. Of course he didn't feel that way. It wasn't as though his brother had abandoned him. Gozaburo was simply trying to break Mokuba's attachment, as he had done many times before over the past four years.

"Answer the question!" Gozaburo shouted, reaching a hand out to grab at Mokuba's throat.

"No sir!" Mokuba said, although he struggled to keep from choking.

"_Now what?_" Gozaburo repeated, holding the letter up where Mokuba could see it clearly. "_You have to take my place?_"

Gozaburo's grip tightened. Mokuba clutched at Gozaburo's hand, desparate to get a breath. Just as his vision began to fade, he heard Gozaburo whisper, "You know where Seto's place was?"

For a brief moment, Gozaburo's grip let up, but only long enough for Mokuba to draw a breath. As soon as Mokuba had taken a gasping breath, Gozaburo squeezed at his neck again. Gozaburo moved his head closer so that his face was all Mokuba could see. When he was certain that he had his son's complete attention, Gozaburo said, "It was chained to the foot of my bed."

In a swift movement, Gozaburo threw Mokuba across the room. The force of the motion was powerful enough to have him slide across the carpeted floor. It was also enough to make Mokuba cry out in pain.

He lifted his head up to watch Gozaburo approach once more. On his way to his adopted son, Gozaburo stopped by his desk to pull a pair of handcuff out. Upon seeing the object, Mokuba tried to crawl away, but only made it a few feet before Gozaburo grabbed his hair and dragged him to the bed.

Within seconds, Gozaburo had cuffed both hands around one of the legs on the bed. Mokuba was trapped on his back, staring up at Gozaburo as the man looked back at the notebook once more.

"_Stay safe, Mokuba. Do it for me, or for yourself - just do it. If I get out of his, I am going to need you to be okay,_" Gozaburo read, stopping at several points throughout to laugh at Seto's words.

Then he threw the copies of Seto's letters to the floor. His face twisted into a sneer as he kicked out one final time, his foot coming into contact with the side of Mokuba's face. "Be safe, Mokuba," he spat.

The CEO sent one last glare towards his heir before turning to walk away. When he was out of sight, Gozaburo said, "I hope you found some manner of comfort in your brother's words."

As Mokuba closed his eyes and let his throbbing face fall to the side, he realized that for the first time, he didn't.

* * *

><p>All of that to show how Gozaburo is handling Seto's letters. And I wanted a different way of showing the letters and to set up the next chapter. I'll try to have the next chapter up within the week.<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five:**

Mokuba woke up and tried to move. His body screamed at him and he quickly gave up trying. He knew that he would be unable to get up anyway, with his hands still cuffed to the foot of Gozaburo's bed, but his back was hurting. He decided that he must have been putting weight on a bruise that was worse than the others. So gritting his teeth together, Mokuba rolled onto his side.

But that too proved to be painful, as Gozaburo had kicked his side as well. Mokuba completed the roll so that he was lying face down on the floor, even though the position twisted the handcuffs around. He decided that he would find no more comfortable way of lying down, although he was still putting pressure on his new injuries, so he stayed there.

From where he lied on the floor, Mokuba could see no clocks. Knowing the time might help him determine where his adopted father was. If it was very early, he could still be asleep. But if it was any time after six, he was either at work or preparing to leave for work.

Mokuba doubted that Gozaburo would just leave him on the floor all day. There was too much to be done and Gozaburo could not afford to let Mokuba fall behind.

Since Mokuba was facing the door, he saw the moment it opened. When Gozaburo entered, he walked over to stand above Mokuba. Mokuba noted the mug in Gozaburo's hand, which was a small relief as it meant that he had not carried his drinking over night. Unfortunately for the young Kaiba, Gozaburo more than likely had a hangover and would not care about unlocking the handcuff in a timely manner.

The CEO moved to his desk. He sat down and began to turn on his computer. Mokuba then realized that Gozaburo had chosen to work from home. That would leave them in the same house all day.

As Gozaburo set about typing, Mokuba debated over asking to be released. Although he knew that Gozaburo was well aware of his son's condition, he wondered if he was just planning to wait for Mokuba to break down and ask. If that was the case, then Gozaburo expected Mokuba to wait a long while before asking. If not, then making the request would only make the situation worse.

It was an impossible decision. The best option would be to wait out Gozaburo, even at the risk of embarrassment. Mokuba did have work to do. Gozaburo couldn't keep him locked up forever.

A crackle sounded in the room, signaling a voice about to come over the intercom.

"Mr. Kaiba, there is a social worker here to speak with you and Mokuba," said the voice that Mokuba didn't attempt to identify.

Gozaburo just pressed a button on the intercom to show that he had heard, then walked quickly over to Mokuba. He pulled the key to the handcuffs out of his pocket and knelt down to reach the chain.

When Mokuba was free, he sat up, barely able to mask the pain he experienced. He kept an even expression.

But Gozaburo's face fell. He ran a hand over his face before saying, "You have a black eye."

Mokuba reached to feel the area beneath his eye. He recalled clearly the moment Gozaburo kicked him, so he knew which eye was injured. Mokuba flinched slightly at his own touch, not expecting the area to be so sensitive.

"Go get cleaned up and put on something decent," Gozaburo ordered.

"Yes sir," Mokuba said. Both Kaibas got to their feet.

Mokuba started for the door, but Gozaburo caught onto his arm. "If you tell the worker about last night, I will kill you."

Although the threat seemed too extreme, Mokuba knew how seriously Gozaburo meant it. With all the bad press circulating about him, Gozaburo was ready for murder.

"I'm going to be asked about my eye," Mokuba said.

Gozaburo's grip tightened as he pulled Mokuba closer. "Lie."

Mokuba, having never seen an expression so terrifying on his adopted father's face, nodded quickly. He was desperate for time away from Gozaburo, with which he would be able to collect himself.

But Gozaburo held on a moment longer, staring harshly at the boy, as if searching for deception in his eyes. If Mokuba wanted to reveal the true occurrences in the Kaiba Mansion, the opportunity was before him. Mokuba understood that for the first time, Gozaburo was facing a real threat of a prison sentence.

"I won't say anything, sir," Mokuba said. Whether or not that was the truth, Mokuba didn't know. But he would say anything to escape the hand holding his arm.

With a final warning, Gozaburo dropped his hold on Mokuba's arm. Mokuba began to walk to the door, but was stalled a moment longer by Gozaburo's command to "move quickly."

Mokuba did as he was told and rushed to his bedroom. Afraid of what would happen if he didn't put on something presentable, Mokuba changed from his sweatpants and t-shirt into a button-up and slacks. For a moment, he debated over a tie, but decided against it, thinking that dressing up too much would make it obvious that he was faking.

He didn't waste any time getting downstairs. It had already been several minutes since the social worker arrived. If he waited any longer, that would bring on questions that Mokuba would not be able to answer safely.

The social worker was in the same room that the detectives had been when they announced the new lead. She sat on the couch with her back very straight. Gozaburo sat across from her, speaking politely as if nothing was wrong. When Gozaburo noticed Mokuba's entrance, he gestured for him to join him on the couch.

The woman's eyes were immediately drawn to the bruise on Mokuba's face. She pursed her lips tightly while Mokuba took a seat beside Gozaburo. It was then that Mokuba remembered that he was supposed to come up with an excuse for his visible injury.

"I'm Sharon Embry," she said, leaning forward and extending a hand to Mokuba.

"I suppose you already know who I am," Mokuba said, taking her hand and shaking it firmly. He smiled brightly at the woman, trying to make it seem as though nothing was amiss.

"I do. And I suppose you know why I am here," Sharon said, shifting back into her rigid position.

"I would guess it is about these rumors going around," Mokuba said.

Sharon nodded. "We take these cases very seriously. If there is a rumor of abuse, we do have to look into it."

"As much as I appreciate the job you are doing, it really is unnecessary for you to be here. I am not abusing my son," Gozaburo said. He sounded as though the thought alone disgusted him.

"Mr. Kaiba, I am going to need to speak with Mokuba alone. Would you mind stepping out for a few minutes?" Sharon said, not acknowledging Gozaburo's denial.

"Of course," Gozaburo said. He then stood up and nodded once in the social worker's direction.

Both Mokuba and Sharon were quiet for the moments following Gozaburo's exit. Mokuba watched as she pulled a pen from her purse and put the tip of it on the notebook in her lap.

"What happened to your eye?"

Mokuba smiled, having known that would be her first question. He took a deep breath and began to weave his lie. "Roland is putting me through self defense training," he said simply.

Sharon wrote something down. "Who is Roland?"

Mokuba muttered a quick, "Oh," as if he had not realized that Sharon did not know who the man was. "He is the head of KaibaCorp's security staff."

"And he gave you the black eye?" She said to clarify.

"That proves why I need the training. He kicked me and I couldn't block it."

Sharon stared at Mokuba. He made sure to keep the traces of a smile on his face to hide the traces of his lie. Gozaburo often told him that he was not good at telling lies, so he knew that he needed to make sure this one was told perfectly. Gozaburo was certainly listening in on the conversation, whether it be through the security system or by standing next to the door. Mokuba would be judged on every word.

"You know that you can tell me the truth, Mokuba," Sharon began quietly. "If he is abusing you, I can help."

Mokuba let the smile fade from his face. "Mrs. Embry, they are just rumors."

"Do you mind if I read you something?" She asked. Mokuba watched her bring out another copy of Seto's letters. As she flipped through the pages, Mokuba noted that she had several sentences highlighted across the series of pages.

"I know what the letters say, Mrs. Embry."

"Then listen to these as I read them all in succession," she said, then she began to read.

_"Oh Mokuba, I worry about you every waking hour. It terrifies me to think of what he might be doing to you. He needs an heir after all, and without me, you have to take the brunt of that." _

She turned the page. _"I think about how you are handling things. I try not to think about what he has been doing to you. Right now, I cannot handle that thought."_

Again she turned the page. _"What did I do to deserve any of this? First our parents, then the orphanage, then Gozaburo, and now this?"_

Mokuba noticed the camera mounted high up on the wall shift slightly so that it pointed directly at him. He tried to ignore it to continue listening to his brother's words.

_"He is most likely training you, but I hope he is taking a different approach than he did with me."_

Sharon stopped reading and glanced up at Mokuba. She didn't need to look back down at the notebook for the next words, _"He keeps asking me about the scars on my back."_

Mokuba nearly flinched as he heard the words that Gozaburo had recited to him just the night before. While Sharon continued reading the letter, every injury Mokuba had received felt as if it was flaring up in pain. He knew that Gozaburo was watching, but he couldn't stop himself from shifting his gaze to the floor.

When Sharon closed the notebook, Mokuba said, "Mrs. Embry, I may not know what Seto went through, but I can assure you, Gozaburo does not abuse me."

Mokuba heard her sigh heavily. When he looked back up from the floor, he saw her putting away her pen and paper.

"Then I will leave you with a question. Please consider it carefully and take your time answering. Is this the home you want Seto to return to? The police will find your brother. Are you comfortable with him living here again?"

The camera on the wall moved once more, triggering Mokuba's answer, "Gozaburo does not abuse me."

Sharon nodded and stood up. She had a business card in her hand, and like the detective, she handed it to Mokuba. "If you ever need anything, I'm a phone call away."

Mokuba too stood. He accepted the card and shook her hand once more. "If anything ever happens," he agreed, knowing that he was telling her another lie.

Even after she left, Mokuba stayed where he was. That might have been his only chance to get out of Gozaburo's house, and he had let it go. The thought alone froze his feet in place.

Gozaburo walked into the room and before he could speak, Mokuba handed him the card. Mokuba chose not to look at Gozaburo's face as he put it into his pocket, knowing that the smirk would only make him angry.

"Get to work," Gozaburo said.

"Yes sir," Mokuba answered.

* * *

><p>No, that wasn't a full letter. But none of Seto's letters are focused entirely on his abuse. So I picked the lines from some of the letters that did focus on it. Future chapters will reveal the rest of Seto's writings that were not shown here.<p> 


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six:**

Mokuba tapped on the door to KaibaCorp's security room. He lifted a hand to wipe away the tears that hung on his cheeks, knowing that if Roland saw them, his chances of being allowed in would be slim. He then dried his hand off on the bottom of his shirt so that he could hold Seto's letters in both hands without risking getting them wet.

Roland opened the door and sighed when he saw the young Kaiba standing in front of him.

"This is the second time this week," Roland stated.

Mokuba nodded and curled his fingers tighter around the notebook he held. "May I please come in?"

Staring down at him sadly, Roland said, "Your father told me that you are no longer allowed in here."

"I know, but I really need to see it."

Roland hesitated longer than Mokuba had expected him to. For a terrifying moment, he feared that Roland would give in to Gozaburo's order and keep Mokuba out. The thought send waves of horror through the teen's body. He needed in.

But finally, Roland stepped aside to allow Mokuba the space he needed to enter. Murmuring his thanks, Mokuba slid by the security officer and took a seat in front of the wall of screens.

"I can't keep doing this for you, you know," Roland said as he pulled open a drawer. Mokuba watched him rifle through it until he found a CD case neatly placed in the back.

"I'm sorry," Mokuba whispered.

Roland shook his head while opening the case and putting it inside the disk drive of a computer. "No, there is no need to be sorry. But I still can't understand why you are choosing to hurt yourself like this."

"I just," Mokuba started, and tried to think of words to explain his constant trips to the security room. But after several seconds of thought, all he could say was, "I just need to see it again."

Roland placed it hand on the computer mouse and clicked around a few times. Mokuba's eyes remained glued to the screen, waiting for the familiar scene to appear. But when the cursor finally hovered over the 'Play' button, Roland stopped to ask, "Did you want sound this time?"

Mokuba considered the question carefully. He had only opted for sound a few times, and those were the first times he had seen the tape. Every trip since then, he refused to listen to the voices that came along with the video. Though he had committed them to memory against his will.

"I don't need it," he answered.

Roland clicked play.

Mokuba knew that the image of Seto sitting at his desk in his office was not the beginning of the tape. Occasionally, Mokuba would ask to watch it from the beginning, although that involved an hour of staring at the same thing: his brother steadily typing. Somehow, Roland always knew what point at which to start the tape.

Staring at his brother's image, Mokuba tried not to think about the fact that this was the last time his brother had been seen in four years. This tape had been all the detectives had to work with, and it lead to many dead ends. The tape offered no clues to finding Seto. All it managed to do was break Mokuba's heart on a weekly basis.

The point Roland had started the tape was around five minutes before anything actually happened. That was perfectly fine with Mokuba. He was content to watch his brother sitting peacefully at his desk, working just like any other day. The only changed Seto made from typing was to rub at his eyes once. Mokuba assumed that he had not slept the night before.

Without the sound, Mokuba was unable to hear the door to Seto's office open, but he still knew the exact moment when it did. Mokuba chewed on his lip while Gozaburo approached Seto's desk.

There was a minute of dialogue which Mokuba could not actually hear. But he recited the words in his head as they played out on the tape.

_"Did you finish editing the progress reports?" Gozaburo had asked. _

_"Yes sir," was Seto's only answer. Along with the response, Seto had moved to look through a stack of folders, pulling out one near to the top. That he handed to his adopted father. _

_"What are you working on now?" Gozaburo asked. _

_"The designs for the missile launcher you asked for," Seto said while returning to his typing. _

_"When will that be completed?" Gozaburo pressed._

_"Tomorrow," Seto stated. _

The conversation ended there. Gozaburo left the room with the folder he had been handed, and Mokuba closed his eyes. His hands had begun to shake, causing him to clutch the papers in his hands even tighter. He could practically hear the seconds passing before the next people would enter his brother's office.

"I can turn it off," Roland said. Mokuba opened his eyes to see the man looking down at his quivering hands.

"No," Mokuba said. He returned to watch the screen.

Mokuba never understood why with all the security KaibaCorp contained, they were unable to prevent the next scene from occurring. If they had it on tape, someone should have seen it happening and been able to stop it. The men should never have been allowed in, much less out, of the building.

Mokuba watched as Seto's eyes didn't so much as look up when his door opened a second time. The youngest Kaiba had often tried to decide what made Seto keep working instead of seeing who had entered his office. Had he assumed that Gozaburo forgot something? Did he think Mokuba was coming to visit? Or did he simply not feel like taking time away from his work to greet the visitor?

With all his heart, Mokuba hoped to ask his brother that question some day.

_The group of men were entirely inside Seto's office before he finally glanced up. When he saw the armed men, Seto's mouth began to move, forming the words, "Can I help you with something?" _

_One of them laughed as he pointed his gun at Seto. "Why yes you can. Don't move." _

_Seto let a hand fall to the underside of his desk where the trigger for the silent alarm was located. But the man with the gun clicked off the safety, and Seto stopped. _

_"There is no need to alert the security, Mr. Kaiba. We wouldn't want them to interrupt."_

_The rest of the men began to walk forward, and Seto stood up from his chair. _

Mokuba saw one of them pull a syringe out of a bag, but Seto had been too distracted by the gun to notice it. Although Mokuba knew it would do no good, he found himself quietly muttering, "Look at him, Seto. Look."

But Seto didn't look.

_A man grabbed Seto from the other side, bringing his attention away from the man with the syringe. Seto fought to remove his hold, and succeeded in breaking out of the first man's grip. He glanced around the room, as if looking for a way out, but the five men had him surrounded. The gun was still aimed at him. _

_The man with the syringe kept walking towards Seto, and the men opposite him were doing their job of distracting the future CEO. Seto was focused on the men coming at him from the one side, and never saw the fifth man behind him. _

Mokuba's hands moved to cover his eyes at the moment he knew the needle would enter his brother's neck. But even with his eyes closed, Mokuba saw the scene in his mind. He saw Seto gasp in shock, then give one final attempt to break free, only to collapse seconds later.

Mokuba didn't cry. He wanted to, but he couldn't. The events were not new to him. He had seen it happen hundreds of times. He stopped crying at the sight of his brother's kidnapping years ago.

"May I turn it off, Mr. Kaiba?" Roland asked softly.

"Yeah," Mokuba whispered. He didn't need to see the rest. The rest of the kidnapping made him too angry. The men had managed to remove Seto from the building without so much as a gun being fired in their direction. The only gun that the camera could see what the one that stayed aimed at Seto's head, even as he was carried out the front door.

Gozaburo insisted that the security had been right in not shooting. If they had, it would have put Seto's life in danger. But Gozaburo had made the mistake in assuming the search for Seto would be wrapped up in days. The years Seto had been missing came as a surprise to all.

When Mokuba watched the videos all the years, his mind always went to Seto's thoughts. What did his brother think when he first awoke? How had he spent his time waiting to be found? At what point did he realize that he would not be rescued? Those thoughts had plagued Mokuba's mind every time he saw the video. He had hated not having the answers.

Mokuba dropped his hands to the letters he carried. He now had the answers. He knew exactly what Seto was thinking. As much as it pained him to read it, Mokuba opened up to the letter that was his answer.

_Dear Mokuba, _

_Some times I think that if I close my eyes, I can just pretend that I am back in the mansion. And if I do that, I can imagine that the breaths coming from beside me are yours, that you just had a bad dream and came to sleep with me. If I do that, things don't seem as bad. _

_But then he moves. And with the movement, I realize that the large body is not yours. I remember that I am not at home. I remember that I still haven't been found. _

_It has been months. At least, I think it has been. How could months pass without rescue? He couldn't have covered his tracks that well. No one is perfect. But he certainly seems to have committed the perfect crime. _

_How is it that the perfect crime ended up being my kidnapping? What did I do to deserve any of this? First our parents, then the orphanage, then Gozaburo, and now this? Am I such a terrible person that I deserve this type of treatment? Mokuba, I can't understand it. I have tried, but it doesn't make sense. _

_I cannot accept this as my life. If I settle in with the fact that I will never leave this room, then I could not keep going. Why would I ever stop fighting to escape? If it wasn't for the chain, I would be making a daily attempt. _

_But the chain is there. I cannot go anywhere. My only hope is for someone to find me. And with so much time gone, I am losing faith even in that. _

_I know that you will never give up on me, kiddo. Until you find solid evidence of my death (which hopefully will never happen), you will keep looking. _

_-With faith in you,  
>Seto Kaiba<em>

He couldn't help but cry when he reached the end. Seto had all this faith in him and Mokuba let him down. Years had elapsed since the writing of this letter. Did Seto still believe Mokuba would be able to find him? Or had he lost all hope, even in his little brother?

"Mokuba, why are you doing this?" Roland asked. He knelt down beside Mokuba's chair and tried to take the boy's hand, but Mokuba pulled away immediately.

"I can't," Mokuba said, his words barely audible in the small room.

"You can't what?"

"I can't do this," Mokuba said. One of his fingers began to trace over Seto's signature, bringing on another round of tears.

"You don't have to watch the tape, Mokuba," Roland said.

Mokuba shook his head. "Not that. I can't keep pretending that everything is okay."

It was Roland's turn to shake his head. "Mokuba, I don't understand."

Mokuba turned to Roland and wiped his eyes dry. He sent the security officer the most determined expression he could manage under the circumstances and said, "Roland, I need your help."

* * *

><p>Chapter Seven will be up in a week or two!<p> 


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven:**

"I need your help," Mokuba repeated when Roland failed to respond.

"Mr. Kaiba, I don't get what you need from me."

Mokuba sighed, hoping that Roland would just catch on. "I can't live with Gozaburo anymore."

The expression of shock that appeared on Roland's face made Mokuba believe that the man would not help him. Mokuba found himself chewing on his lip nervously waiting for the security officer to say anything.

"If you leave, Mr. Kaiba will just find you and bring you back," Roland stated.

Mokuba shook his head. "Not if I can get away first. Please, I can't keep doing this. He is abusing me, Roland."

After his confession, Mokuba lifted a hand to feel the fading bruise beneath his eye. It had been expertly covered, but Mokuba knew it was there. He wanted Roland to see it too.

So Mokuba moved his hand to his mouth and licked his finger, then used the moisture to rub away the layer of makeup. As he did, he watched Roland's face fall. Mokuba didn't try to get all of the cover up off, but just enough to prove his point. The light purple color must have shown Roland that he was telling the truth.

"Mokuba," Roland began, but didn't complete the thought. Instead, he placed two fingers on the bruise, causing Mokuba to flinch slightly.

"Mr. Kaiba did this to you?"

"Yes sir. He did it to Seto too."

"Then the letters," Roland said, his sentence paused momentarily, as if he was considering carefully his next words. "Then Seto was referring to Gozaburo abusing him." It wasn't a question.

"Roland, please."

"What will you have me do?" Roland asked.

Mokuba smiled and threw his arms around the man's neck. "Thank you." When Roland returned the hug, Mokuba held on a while longer, relishing in the first hug he had received in over four years.

When Mokuba finally pulled back, he said, "I need to find Sharon Embry."

"Who is that?"

"A social worker who came to talk to me about the abuse rumors. She gave me a card, but Gozaburo has it now," Mokuba said. He chose not to mention the fact that he had been the one to hand Gozaburo Embry's business card.

"Do you know where she works?" Roland asked.

Mokuba shook his head. "I didn't even look at her card."

Roland glanced to the computers on the desk in the room. "If I look for her here, your father will certainly find out about it."

"I don't want you to get fired," Mokuba said.

"Then we can't do anything here. Once we are out of the building, I'll make some calls."

Mokuba looked up at the wall which was full of screen monitoring the building. As far as he knew, there was not a single inch of KaibaCorp that was not being filmed by the extensive numbers of cameras. And although Roland's office was the main security room, there were others. Someone else would see Mokuba if he tried to leave the building. Gozaburo would be informed immediately.

"How will I get out?" Mokuba asked. He knew that the security officers stationed around the exits had orders not to let him leave without verbal permission from Gozaburo. It had never been given.

Roland tapped his fingers on the desk while he thought. "If I can angle the cameras away from you, then I could make sure that you get to the parking garage unseen."

"But there is a guard there."

"I'll call him away for something."

Mokuba nodded. "Roland, are you sure you want to do this? Gozaburo will be incredibly mad."

Roland widened his eyes and his mouth fell slightly open. "Do you honestly believe that I won't help you?"

The more Mokuba considered the question, the more he came to believe that no one would help him. No one had since Seto, so why would it be any different now? Gozaburo had made sure that everyone knew better than to even talk to the young Kaiba.

Instead of answering, Mokuba just shrugged.

"Go ahead and start walking to the garage. I'll handle things here, then go tell your father that I'm leaving," Roland said.

Mokuba got to his feet and hugged his brother's letters close. He was nervous to have to try to escape the building against his father's orders. His bruises had yet to fade from his last beating, and Mokuba had no interest in acquiring any new ones.

Roland pulled open a drawer on the desk and took out a set of keys. He quickly sorted through them and held one out to Mokuba. "This is my car key. Wait for me there."

Waiting no longer, Mokuba took the keys and went to the door. Roland held up a hand to stop him while he adjusted the cameras in the hallway, then waved Mokuba out.

Mokuba walked very slowly through the hall. He was certain that at any moment, someone would appear to catch him in the act of leaving. What if Roland was unable to hide him from all the cameras? Could Roland get the guard away from the door to the parking garage? Then what would happen if Gozaburo wouldn't let Roland leave work early? There were too many variables in the situation for Mokuba to feel safe.

He tried to act as though everything were normal, as if he was supposed to be walking in his current direction. Perhaps if he moved with confidence, no one would question his actions.

The first person that he passed just sent him the same sad glance as all the other employees had done. However, Mokuba found himself relieved this time, as that was normal. The man hadn't noticed anything was wrong. He didn't even seem to note the bruise that could now be seen under his eye.

So Mokuba breathed deeply to calm himself while he continued on his way. By the time he reached the back exit, the only sign of nerves he displayed was in his tight grip on the letters. But anyone who spent time with him over the past months would know that was the norm.

Roland had done as he said he would and there was no one standing next to the door. Mokuba glanced up to where he knew a camera was located, and he saw it facing the other direction. To help keep from drawing unnecessary attention, Mokuba exited the building quickly. He made sure to close the door behind him.

Mokuba looked at the key he held. Roland had said that it was for his car, but he never specified what type of car he owned. Of course the key couldn't have any type of identification, for that would make it all too easy. Mokuba had to walk among the rows of expensive cars to look for the one with the security decal.

It took him several minutes, but eventually he found it on the lower floor. When he did, Mokuba slid into the passenger's seat and locked the doors. Until they were out of sight of the building, Mokuba knew he would not be safe. And even then, he couldn't be sure of that.

His fingers tapped lightly over the top of the notebook in his lap. He was unaware of how long it would take for Roland to make his way out, or even if Gozaburo would allow him to leave. Mokuba had never been more afraid. Neither of his options were positive. If he remained with Gozaburo, then the abuse would continue. And if he left, then he would have to admit to the entire world that both he and Seto were abused orphans. One option was pain, the other embarrassment.

Seto had put up with both. Under Gozaburo and this new kidnapper, Seto had handled it. Mokuba didn't understand why both he and his brother had been cursed with such unfortunate luck, but such superstitions would do nothing for him.

Mokuba had a moment of regret for including himself in the group with Seto. There was no possible way that he could even imagine what all his brother had gone through. There were parts that he didn't have to imagine. His brother tried not to mention the darker parts of his captivity in his letters, but Mokuba remembered one which solely focused on it.

That was a letter which Mokuba rarely read. As he sat in Roland's car waiting, he debated over reading it again. The words on the page broke his heart every time he looked at them. He wasn't sure if he could handle reading them in such an intense situation.

But then, wasn't Seto always in intense situations? If Seto could put up with them, Mokuba should be able to.

So he flipped open the notebook to a page almost halfway through. Mokuba took a deep breath before beginning.

_Dear Mokuba, _

_I don't know what has become of me. Never before have I been more humiliated, and this is of my own doing. Oh Mokuba, I cannot believe I have fallen so low. I am losing myself. Not losing, but giving up who I am voluntarily. _

_I have been debating whether or not to write about this to you. The better part of the time since the incident has been spent in inner conflict. I don't want to tell you, but at the same time, I feel as though I must. _

_I woke up just the same as the hundreds of times before. He was lying in front of me, but not asleep. It is a common practice of his, watching me sleep. Upon my waking, he told me that he would be gone for the day. I wasn't sure why he was telling me that. He is gone most of the time. _

_But he apologized. He said that he knew I must be bored in the hours he was gone. He made me an offer then. He said that if I kissed him, he would move the bookshelf to where I could reach it. _

_The offer was so tempting. He was right in that I spent the days in boredom. His bookcase is filled with so many books, and I haven't read anything in so long. _

_I did it. Mokuba, I voluntarily kissed the man who kidnapped me, just for books. What would I be willing to do to remove the chain? Now that I have compromised myself, he is going to make me do it again. He got me to submit to him for entertainment. _

_I haven't touched the books. I don't deserve them. I deserve all manners of horrible things. Maybe I deserve to be here. How could I do such a thing? And what will happen when he tells me to do it again?_

_-S_

Mokuba's eyes lingered over his brother's signature. He knew that it was the first time that Seto hadn't signed a letter with his name. And from that letter on, none of the letters bore his signature. This letter was the beginning of his brother's change in character. None of the rest of the letters sounded much like the Seto Mokuba knew.

The car door across from Mokuba opened, and he looked over to see Roland enter the car. A sigh of relief escaped Mokuba's lips as he closed the notebook.

"Gozaburo just let you leave?" Mokuba questioned.

Roland shook his head. "I had to tell him that my wife had gone into labor."

"Isn't she only at eight months?" Mokuba asked.

"Which made it sound all the more urgent."

"I'm sorry you had to lie to him for me."

Roland started the car and began to back out of the space. "I'm sorry I didn't notice your abuse before. Buckle your seatbelt."

Mokuba did as he was told. As they pulled out of the parking garage, Mokuba started to calm down, but just slightly. He wouldn't feel safe until Gozaburo was locked away. But even then, Gozaburo still would have a reach outside of prison. He had men who would do anything for him. A few bars would not stop the CEO.

Mokuba doubted if he would ever feel safe again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight:**

Mokuba found himself staring at the digital numbers displayed above the car's stereo. With every increase of the digits, he breathed more easily. He told himself that if he took his eyes from their current focus, then he would spend the entire car ride staring at the rearview mirror. The idea alone was frightening to the teen. If he watched the mirror, then he would believe that every car in the reflection was following after him. It was better to just stare at the clock.

Roland had been on the phone for most of the car ride. Since he was unable to find Sharon Embry's information at KaibaCorp, he had to call around.

And since they were both unsure as to where it was exactly that she worked, Roland was aimlessly driving through the streets of Domino.

"3352 Ninth Avenue? Thank you for your help," Roland said before hanging up the phone.

"Did you find her?" Mokuba asked. His eyes stayed on the clock.

"Yes. She works a few blocks down from here."

Mokuba nodded. He didn't know what else to say. Roland had told him to stop saying "thank you," and those were the only words coming to his mind. Roland was risking too much for him. Gozaburo would kill the security officer if he knew what was happening.

Gozaburo would kill Mokuba too, if given the chance. He would do it just to prove that he was serious. Mokuba had broken so many rules in leaving KaibaCorp. If Gozaburo found him, there would be no hope for Mokuba or Roland.

Maybe this had been a mistake. If he went back now, Gozaburo probably wouldn't kill him. He would beat him half to death, but not all the way. Mokuba would never be allowed to leave the mansion, and even then he would probably have a body guard assigned to watch his every move. But even that was better than death, right?

"Roland, maybe this wasn't a good idea," Mokuba said.

Roland tapped gently on the brake as they approached a traffic light. "No, Mr. Kaiba. This is not a mistake."

"He is going to kill you."

"He won't find out that it was me who helped."

Mokuba tore his eyes away from the clock to glance up at Roland. "How do you know that? He knows everything that goes on in this city."

"He didn't see you leave the building, and he doesn't know that I'm taking you to get help."

"Once he realizes that I'm gone, he will put it together. He is far from stupid."

"Stop worrying."

"Turn around. We should go back."

Roland did the opposite. As soon as the light turned green, he continued towards the office of Sharon Embry. Mokuba couldn't see his eyes through his sunglasses, but Roland seemed to be determined.

"Roland, I won't be able to live with myself if he kills you."

"I can't believe I didn't notice he was hurting you," Roland whispered.

"It isn't your responsibility."

"It isn't? My job is to keep you safe, Mr. Kaiba. I failed at that."

Roland pulled into a small parking lot. Mokuba could feel his heart racing in fear. What if they had been followed? Gozaburo could be in the car behind them, ready to kill Roland and drag Mokuba back to his personal hell.

"Are you ready?" Roland asked.

Mokuba shook his head. "I can't do this."

"Just take a minute, because we are going in there, and you will tell that woman what you have been going through."

Mokuba squeezed his eyes closed. He couldn't do it. After four years, what had changed to make him feel the need to suddenly confess all that his adopted father had inflicted upon him?

Then he remembered. It had been something that Sharon Embry had said in their conversation. In all the time since, he hadn't forgotten about her words. They echoed in his thoughts, in his dreams. He never could rid himself of them fully.

It was for Seto.

Mokuba opened the notebook in his lap to a random page. He didn't really care what letter it was; he just wanted to hear Seto's words.

_Dear Mokuba, _

_I have forgotten how to speak. Being silent for so long has left my throat devoid of any traces of sound. Occasionally when he leaves, I try to say something - anything. I just can't. Or maybe I can, but when I try, I just don't know what to say. There is nothing worth saying. My words have no meaning. There is just no point. _

_Amazing how quickly things change, is it not? I don't know how long it has been, but it couldn't have been that long. I know this for a fact because I am certain the entire police force is looking for me. If it takes them too long, all hope will be lost. Then I will have nothing. If I have nothing, will I be able to go on? Will I become nothing? _

_He is sitting across the room right now. He glances back every few minutes, and every time, I am certain that he will rethink his idea to give me the notebook. I am certain that he will storm over, tear it out of my hands and shred the pages. _

_But every time, he just smiles and goes back to his work. Maybe he does read these letters. Maybe since I have stopped speaking, he relies on my notes to know what I am thinking. That might be the true motive behind his "gift."_

_It is thoughts like that which make me consider stopping. But if I stop, I lose language entirely. Mokuba, without language, am I any better than an animal? If I give up language, I will become nothing more than his pet. I write to you to remain human. _

_With all the hope I possess,  
>-Your brother<em>

Mokuba knew that was why he had to go through with this. He couldn't let Seto down, especially when Seto was losing himself. If he ever was found - when he was found - Mokuba would have to be there for him. And he couldn't do that with Gozaburo in the picture. Gozaburo would go back to training Seto as he had done before. That might kill Seto entirely.

"I'm ready," Mokuba said as he closed the letters.

Roland opened his door to get out of the car, and Mokuba did the same. He carried the letters with him, afraid of facing what was ahead without Seto's presence.

At the main door, Roland held it open for Mokuba. Mokuba slid through silently and waited for Roland to follow him. Then Mokuba let Roland walk ahead.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for Sharon Embry?" Roland asked the secretary.

The woman seemed annoyed that Roland had interrupted her work. "She's busy," she mumbled. Mokuba noticed that the volume at which she chewed her gum was louder than the words themselves.

"Could you tell her that Mokuba Kaiba needs to see her?" Mokuba asked.

That caught the woman's attention. She stared up, having clearly failed to notice Mokuba standing in front of her before.

She nodded and picked up the phone. A few numbers later, she was saying, "Mrs. Embry? I have a Mokuba Kaiba here to speak with you."

She hung up the phone. "She'll see you now."

"Where is her office?" Roland asked.

The secretary pointed to a hallway behind her. "Third door on your right. Office 113."

"Thank you," Mokuba said quietly. He sent the woman what he hoped was a grateful expression, but he felt like it could have come across as more pathetic. She did respond with eyes full of pity.

Mokuba hated the expression that he had become so accustomed to seeing. He couldn't bear to stand in front of her any longer, and began to walk down to the office she had pointed to. Roland walked behind him.

When he stood in front of room 113, Mokuba paused. He had lifted his hand to knock on the door, but it stopped moving about an inch away from actual contact. His fingers clenched tightly together to keep his hand from shaking.

"Roland, I can't -"

Roland reached around Mokuba and knocked twice on the door. Mokuba let his hand fall as he took a deep breath.

"Come in!"

A hand was gently placed on Mokuba's back and nudged him forward. Mokuba smiled at Roland's subtle forcefulness. If the security guard had not come with him, Mokuba knew he would have never gone through with the plan.

Sharon Embry sat at her desk as Mokuba and Roland entered her office. It was small, very small. The walls were covered with bookshelves and file cabinets. Those were covered so heavily with books and papers that the furniture was almost impossible to see. Mokuba found the space comforting. It made him realize that this woman took her job very seriously. If she didn't care, she wouldn't put so much effort into her work.

"Mokuba, I'm so glad you came by."

Mokuba wasn't sure what to say. He stood near the door, waiting for her to say something else. He wouldn't know where to begin if she wanted him to start.

"Will you have a seat? I'm sorry that I only have the one chair," she said, gesturing to the chair in front of her desk.

Roland lead Mokuba over to the seat and the teenager sat down. Roland remained standing beside the chair with his arms crossed defensively.

"I don't believe we've met," she said to Roland. When Roland introduced himself, Embry looked to Mokuba. "Roland, the man you said gave you the black eye?"

Mokuba looked down. "I lied," he admitted.

"I know you did," Embry said. Mokuba brought his gaze back up to meet her eyes.

"If you knew I was lying, why didn't you say anything?"

"In order to help you, you have to admit what is happening. I can't just pressure you into telling me the truth."

"Would you have just left me alone?" Mokuba asked.

"Oh no. But I had a feeling that you would be coming around."

Mokuba nodded, but again fell into silence. He didn't want to begin talking. He had never actually told anyone, aside from Roland, about Gozaburo abusing him, and he was hesitant to start. How would he even begin to explain the reasoning behind putting up with four years of abuse? Embry worked these types of cases daily. Certainly she had heard every excuse. Mokuba wondered how pathetic he seemed sitting quietly across from her.

He didn't like the thought of appearing pathetic. He wanted to be strong, just as Seto had been through it all, but he couldn't find the proper words. Mokuba took a deep breath as he tried to decide how exactly to present his case to Embry.

"Mokuba, would you mind me asking you some questions?" Embry asked, much to Mokuba's relief. He could answer questions. That was simple enough.

"Go ahead."

She picked up her pencil and took a notebook from a pile on her desk. She then made a very obvious movement to turn on a voice recorder which was sitting on her desk. It was clear that she wanted Mokuba to be aware that his words were being recorded. "What exactly did you lie about?"

"I lied about Roland hurting me. That wasn't true. I lied when I said that I didn't know what Gozaburo had done to Seto. Gozaburo did abuse Seto," Mokuba said. His fingers tightened around the letters in his hands as he admitted that fact.

"And?" Embry pressed.

"He abuses me too."

Embry nodded and wrote something down. "Why didn't you tell the truth the first time?"

"Gozaburo was watching. And-" Mokuba started, but he had to pause for several seconds. He didn't like being so open. "He threatened me."

Mokuba was painfully aware of how quiet Roland had been since they entered the room. Although Mokuba knew that Roland had nothing to contribute to the conversation, he wished that he would say something.

"Did he threaten to hurt you?"

"You could say that."

"What exactly did he say?"

"He said he would kill me if I told you the truth," Mokuba whispered.

That brought Embry's writing to a halt. Mokuba immediately turned his head to the side so he wouldn't have to look at her. He wanted to just get up and leave, but he knew that Roland would never let him get far. He was here. He had to go through with it.

"Did you believe him?"

"I still do," Mokuba said. When the social worker didn't respond, Mokuba added, "if he knew I was here." He didn't complete the thought.

"So your father doesn't know that you are here?"

"He doesn't know I've left KaibaCorp. Or, at least, he didn't at the time we left."

She wrote something else down. By the time Mokuba looked back in her direction, she was turning the page in her notebook.

"When was the last time he hurt you?" she asked, although she sounded regretful that the question was necessary.

"The night before you came to the mansion."

"Was it just your eye?"

Mokuba shook his head. "No."

Embry sighed. "Mokuba, I understand that you may not want to talk about it, but I need you to be more specific."

Mokuba bit down on his lip. "He was drunk and he had been reading Seto's letters. He just kicked and hit at me for a while, then handcuffed me to the foot of his bed."

Beside him, Roland tensed noticeably. Embry closed her notebook and put the pencil down. Mokuba just sat and waited for someone else to speak.

"He handcuffed you to his bed?" Embry asked. Mokuba nodded.

"That means I need to ask-"

Mokuba immediately knew what her question would be and cut her off. "No, nothing like that."

Roland let out a deep breath which seemed like it had been held for the duration of their time in Embry's office. Mokuba glanced up at him to send a small smile in his direction.

"Well, that's something," Embry said under her breath. Mokuba pretended as though he hadn't heard.

"Mrs. Embry," Mokuba began. He wasn't quite sure how to phrase his question, so he said it in the simplest way he could. "Do I have to go back to the mansion?"

Embry appeared surprised that Mokuba would even ask the question. "Mokuba, we won't send you back to an abusive home."

"Then where will I go?"

"Do you have any relatives that you can stay with?" she asked.

"You mean Gozaburo's relatives?"

Embry looked confused. Mokuba wasn't sure why that was. If she had taken his case, then shouldn't she know the difference?

"I'm adopted. All my family is dead." _Except Seto, _Mokuba thought confidently.

"Of course, of course," Embry muttered. She quickly flipped through a few pages on her desk and nodded when she found the one she was searching for. "Adopted at five. I knew that."

She paused and glanced to Mokuba just long enough to ask, "Are you close with any of Gozaburo's relatives?"

"I haven't met any of them."

"Well, there are many nice homes that you can stay in."

"I'm seventeen. Why can't I just live on my own?"

"Are you able to provide for yourself?"

"What?"

"Mokuba, in order to live on your own, you have to prove that you are capable of taking care of yourself. Without a means of income, I can't let you emancipate yourself from Gozaburo."

"Can he live with me?" Roland asked.

Mokuba turned to Roland in shock. He had never expected the security guard to make such an offer. "Roland, you can't. I mean, your wife-"

"Would be furious if she found out I didn't bring you home with me."

Mokuba looked to Embry for an answer. He chewed on the inside of his lip while he watched her think it over. For a minute, she seemed doubtful. Mokuba was terrified of the possibility of her response being a negative one. Mokuba only had the vaguest memories of the orphanage home, but he had no interest in being sent to another home like that. Roland's offer sounded perfect to Mokuba.

Mokuba sighed in relief when he saw Embry's smile. "I think I can have that arranged."

"Really?" Mokuba asked. He closed his mouth quickly after speaking, not liking how excited and childish his exclamation sounded.

"Really. As long as it is a safe environment, and he was not really the one who gave you the black eye."

At that moment, Roland's phone began to buzz in his pocket. He muttered an apology and pulled it out. He was about to answer it when he glanced down at the caller id.

"It's Mr. Kaiba," he stated.

A chill ran down Mokuba's spine. Gozaburo had noticed he was gone. That had to be it. He had made the connection and knew that Mokuba was breaking a rule. He had Embry's card. He knew where Mokuba would be.

Roland jabbed the 'ignore' button sharply with his thumb. "I'm sure it can wait."

"He must know where I went," Mokuba said.

"Let's meet here again tomorrow. We can go over the details more carefully then," Embry suggested. She turned off the tape recorder.

Relieved, Mokuba stood. If Gozaburo had in fact noticed his absence, then he would be searching for him. This would be the first place he looked, and Mokuba was scared to stay any longer. Although he knew that the security here would never let Gozaburo anywhere near his adopted son, he didn't want the risk.

"Thank you," Mokuba said.

Embry just smiled and walked her two visitors to the door. Her hand lingered on the knob, and she turned back to Mokuba.

"What changed your mind?"

Mokuba's gaze fell down to the pages he still held in his hands. "It was something you said while at the mansion. You were right. I don't want Seto coming back to that house if Gozaburo is still there. It wouldn't be fair to him, after all he is going through, if he had to-" Mokuba stopped, unable to find the right word. But instead of finding the right word, he changed his thought. "It is my turn to protect him."

"You are doing the right thing," Embry said.

"I know," Mokuba answered. But the sinking feeling that had taken place in his stomach remained. If he was doing the right thing, shouldn't he feel better? Now, as he had admitted the truth to the person who could see Gozaburo arrested, Mokuba felt worse. Word would get out, and for the rest of his life, everyone would think of him as an abused child. Was that worth it?

Embry opened the door and Mokuba stared out. It had to be worth it, he decided. Even if it made his life harder, it would help Seto. And that had to count for something.

* * *

><p>Longest chapter yet! Let me know what you think!<p> 


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine:**

_Dear Mokuba,_

_He bought a television to put in the room. I am not allowed to watch it while he is gone, and even when he is here, he picks the channel or movie. But it is a relief to have something to do other than read. As much as I enjoy reading, there is only so much of it that I can put up with. _

_But Mokuba, all he ever watches are black and white classics. And I have nothing else to do, so I have to try to get into them. I would so much rather be watching one of those explosion-filled films that you love and I hate. I might end up becoming a hopeless romantic if I see another couple fall in love. _

_If he wasn't sitting a few feet away, I might have laughed. Me, a romantic? It is amusing. I am losing my mind. The deterioration is slow, but it is happening. _

_Some couple just fell in love out of nowhere. I need a modern plot badly. Even his books are all written over fifty years ago. That's what I get being kidnapped by an older man. I should put in for a transfer to a younger warden. _

_It's official. I have gone off the deep end. I have been kidnapped and I am concerned over movie plots. But then again, what else do I have to write to you about? I can't even discuss the cliche topic of the weather! I don't want to talk to you about any of the bad things that are happening. I don't want to put this on you. So I am going to continue writing about the movies. But maybe he will turn on the news. If he was to do that, I might be able to find out where I am. I wouldn't be able to do anything if I did find out, but I want to know where I am._

_I miss you,  
>Your brother<em>

"Here is the video that has been requested nonstop since we aired it," said the newscaster. The image on the screen switched over to a recording. Mokuba had watched every time it had shown.

"Mokuba, turn it off," Roland said. He walked over to the couch and reached for the remote, but Mokuba pulled it away.

"Honey, you should just let him watch it," Olivia, Roland's wife, said. She walked over very slowly, having to take small steps. Her hands were both resting on her stomach as she stood next to her husband.

"It isn't healthy for him to be doing that," Roland said.

"Well," Mokuba said absentmindedly, "You know how I've got this thing for watching videos over and over."

Mokuba was more focused on the image of KaibaCorp on the television than the couple standing behind him. His eyes were set on his adopted father's face.

The recording showed the arrest of Gozaburo. It had occurred that morning. But Mokuba had a hard time believing that it actually happened. He didn't think Roland understood that. It wasn't that he wanted to watch. He couldn't afford not to. It was something that he needed to see. He wanted the image printed in his thoughts.

But every time the video played, Mokuba noticeably tensed. Maybe that was the reason Roland thought it unwise for Mokuba to watch it over so many times.

The problem with the video was not what happened within it. In fact, the first moments of the video were comforting. It showed the police leading Gozaburo out of the front doors of KaibaCorp, his hands cuffed behind him. He was surrounded by reporters, employees, and bystanders, all watching in amazement as the most powerful man in the city was arrested.

There was a bar of text running across the bottom of the screen. The words were set on a repeating loop which Mokuba's eyes flickered down to constantly.

'_KaibaCorp CEO arrested on charges of child abuse. No current word on trial date. . . KaibaCorp CEO arrested on charges of child abuse. No current word on trial date. . . KaibaCorp CEO arrested-"_

None of that was what effected Mokuba so deeply. It was the very last seconds before Gozaburo was put inside the back of the squad car. In those moments, he made eye contact with the camera.

He was looking at Mokuba. To anyone else, they might have thought that he was irritated at this humiliation being recorded. That was a natural response, especially for someone in Gozaburo's position.

But Mokuba knew the expression. Gozaburo looked at the camera because he knew the boy who had him arrested would be watching. In the few seconds of eye contact, Gozaburo glared. Yet, just as he was being lowered into the car, he smirked.

Mokuba felt that smirk hit him every time. Gozaburo knew Mokuba was to blame. There was nothing Mokuba could do to hide that fact from him. Gozaburo would be coming after him. It was only a matter of time before someone broke into Roland's home and killed Mokuba. After all, the security officer's home would be the first place Gozaburo's men would look.

While Mokuba was distracted in his thoughts, Roland snatched the remote from his hand. Mokuba didn't argue or try to reclaim it as Roland hit the power button. Gozaburo's glare had unnerved him this time more than the others. Perhaps it had to do with the letter he had just read, or the fact that it was the fifth time that day he had endured it.

Gozaburo was coming for him. It didn't matter that Mokuba refused to appear in court to speak against his adopted father. He had given the police all the evidence they needed to arrest and convict him.

"Mokuba, would you like to come help me with dinner?" Olivia asked.

As much as Mokuba really didn't want to, it was hard to turn down a woman who looked like she was about to give birth that second. So he agreed with a small smile.

As the two of them walked to the kitchen, Mokuba found himself walking slower than normal to match Olivia's pace. He wasn't sure why he was doing it, but even when he realized how slowly he walked, he didn't speed up.

Once in the kitchen, Mokuba placed the letters he carried on the table.

"Do you like pasta?" she asked.

"Yes ma'am," Mokuba answered.

"Great. Can you get that pot out of the cabinet over there? No, the one beside the stove," she said, giving directions until Mokuba came across the precise one she was searching for. Mokuba laid it out on the counter and turned to Olivia for more instructions.

They prepared the meal mostly in silence. The only speaking was done to give Mokuba instructions. It was comfortable, far more comfortable than Mokuba had felt in quite some time. And it did help to get his mind off his impending doom.

Mokuba stood in front of a pot of water that was boiling. Olivia had warned him not to stand and watch it as it heated up, as a watched pot never boils. And Mokuba had taken the time to explain to her the physical impossibilities of that statement. He smiled after that, knowing how much he had sounded like Seto.

"Mokuba, will you explain something to me?"

"I can try," Mokuba said.

Olivia walked to Mokuba and dumped a container of noodles into the pot. "Well, do you really believe that your father will try to hurt you?"

Mokuba laughed. "You realize he was just arrested for abuse, right?"

She shook her head, a gentle smile on her lips. "That isn't what I meant, Mokuba. Stir that for me," she said, pointing to the pot. When Mokuba did as she asked, she went on. "I mean, do you think he would try to do something from prison?"

"Yes, he said he would kill me if I tried to tell anyone. And I got him _arrested_."

"But Mokuba, he isn't being arrested for murder. If anything happens to you, then he is the first suspect. He would be adding time to his sentence. He is a smart man, he wouldn't risk further hurting himself."

Mokuba hadn't thought about it that way. After all his time living in the Kaiba mansion, he had just grown to accept that all of Gozaburo's threats were true. He didn't question them.

But that idea was a new one to Mokuba. If anything happened to him, even if it appeared to be accidental, all eyes would turn to Gozaburo. Olivia was right. He couldn't actually take action against his adopted son without adding more time to his sentence. The penalty for murder was far worse than that for child abuse.

"Thank you," Mokuba said.

Olivia just held her smile in place and said, "I can handle it from here. Why don't you go find Roland and tell him it will be ready soon?"

"Okay," Mokuba said. He walked back towards the living room, grabbing the letters off the table as he went. Mokuba looked down at the letters and smiled. They would find Seto, and when they did, there would be nothing Gozaburo could do about it.

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><p>I thought it was about time for a chapter to end on a positive note. Poor little depressed Mokie needed a break.<p>

-Dear Anonymous Reviewer, I have mentioned Mokuba's age before. Gozaburo says it in the first chapter.


	10. Chapter 10

Sorry for the delay. But I got started on the next chapter so it wouldn't take as long to update. Trust me, you'd rather have been kept waiting for this chapter than the next.

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><p><strong>Chapter Ten:<strong>

Mokuba stared at the fire and wondered how badly it would burn his hand if he were to put it inside. He flexed his fingers, debating the attempt.

Roland dropped another log into the blaze and stepped back, wiping his hands on his pants. He then reclaimed the seat closest to the fire and picked up the newspaper he had been reading before the fire needed tending.

Mokuba kicked his foot against the leg of the chair on which he sat. The fire had all but hypnotized him. He had been trying to read a book Roland recommended, but once the fire had been lit, he hadn't been able to pry his eyes from it.

Even his brother's letters resting in his lap couldn't draw his attention. Mokuba had flipped it to the last page, but never made it past the line which read, _Dear Mokuba._

It was the last letter. Mokuba could understand that it marked the end. But the end of what, he didn't know. It wasn't the end of the pages in the notebook. Mokuba had counted the letters, and the number didn't match up with the number of pages in a standard notebook. It wasn't the end of his brother's willingness to write, at least, Mokuba didn't believe that. Nothing in the letter made it sound as though Seto was planning to quit writing.

Something had to have happened to make him stop. Mokuba had speculated over the possibilities every time he reached the end of the letters. In the past, Mokuba had assumed that it was the last letter before they moved locations. Perhaps Seto had just left the notebook behind as his kidnapper took him away. It was a safe assumption.

But it had been months since the letters were discovered. Mokuba remembered Corwin and Granlil's words that they had leads to follow. They had hope all that time ago.

What happened?

Too much time had passed. If the police and detectives had any hope of finding Seto, it had faded in the time since the case had been reopened.

Mokuba had to accept the fact that they wouldn't find Seto. He would never be found.

It was because Seto was dead. Mokuba now knew that.

A cry arose from the nursery. Roland lowered his newspaper and cast his eyes to the doorway.

"Roland, can you check on him?" Olivia called from the kitchen.

Mokuba wondered why she hadn't asked him. Of course, he wasn't Eli's father, but it wouldn't have been the first time in the past month that Mokuba had helped take care of their baby.

Roland left the room and Mokuba returned to examining the fire. It was so _alive_. A pang of jealously shot through Mokuba as he realized that he hadn't felt that alive in a long time. Why should fire be allowed to live while he and Seto were dead?

Mokuba was overwhelmed by the desire to put out the fire in plain spite. However, Roland had taken such careful care to tend to it. Mokuba would be hurting Roland more than the fire. Instead of acting against the flames, his eyes dropped down.

The letter Mokuba opened to was not finished. It was the last that Seto had written, and for reasons unknown, he never completed it.

Mokuba wanted to understand his brother's last words. If he could understand what Seto was thinking during his last letter, maybe Mokuba would receive closure over his brother's certain death. The words had to mean something.

_'Of course," _Mokuba thought grimly. _'He never finished. Maybe he realized it was pointless."_

Mokuba could hear the words echoing in his mind. He was unsure as to why he carried the letters he had long ago etched to the deepest portions of this thoughts. He heard Seto's words always. They whispered in his ears, shouted from a distance - they were always there.

Why did he constantly carry the bound pages with him? All it accomplished anymore was making him appear pathetic. It garnered pity from all who saw. Mokuba didn't appreciate pity, so why carry his brother's last words with him?

The fire crackled up higher than it had before. It continued to crack, as if laughing. Did the first pity him too? Or was it mocking his loss?

It burned so brightly, as opposed to the darkness filling his conscious. The fire pulled Mokuba to his feet, drawing him in nearer until he stood above it. From his new angle, Mokuba almost looked directly down on the flames. Now they moved towards him. In his eyes, they were jumping up to burn him.

But the more Mokuba stared, the more he realized that the flames were not after him, but his brother. Maybe he had misunderstood the fire's intentions all along. Maybe it wanted to bury Seto.

As if in a trance, Mokuba dropped the notebook. The fire immediately absorbed it, and the pages began to curl in upon themselves, the edges slowly dissolving into a deep, black ash.

The words on the page were being consumed, and as they were destroyed, Mokuba recited them in his head.

_Dear Mokuba,_

_I can't comprehend why people enjoy dancing. There is no point to it really. Well, I can understand professional dancing that actually requires some manner of skill, but the ridiculous dancing that the general population practices? It is beyond my scope of knowledge. _

_Then there is the prom. That is an entire night devoted to terrible dancing. _

_What do people see in this?_

And that was all Seto had written. It could have been that Seto just had the few words to say on the subject, but by not adding a signature at the bottom of the page, Mokuba had made the assumption that his brother never received the chance.

Mokuba stared down until the fire had completely consumed the letters. All that was left behind was an outline of ash that bore a vague resemblance to the item in its place moments prior.

Mokuba's jaw slowly fell open. What had he done? Those letters were his only connection to his dead brother and he destroyed them.

He fell to his knees and reached towards the flames, as though he were going to grab for the destroyed letters.

It was at the moment that Roland walked back into the room. Upon seeing Mokuba's position, and his hand extended to the fire, Roland ran over and wrapped his fingers around Mokuba's wrist. pulling back slightly.

"Mr. Kaiba, what are you doing?"

"I burned them, Roland. I burned the letters and now they are gone! Seto is gone!" Mokuba exclaimed. He turned his head quickly in Roland's direction, and as soon as their eyes met, Mokuba burst into tears.

"Why did you burn the letters?" Roland asked. The question came out hesitant, as though he was afraid of saying the wrong words.

"Seto is dead," Mokuba whispered.

He returned to the blaze before him. The fire had captured him. Though he had no physical contact with the flames, he could feel them wrapping around him in a grip he couldn't hope to escape.

"Wh-" Roland began, pausing to look around the room. "Where did you get that idea?"

"They should have found him by now. It has been over four years, and months since the letters. But we are no closer to Seto!"

"You can't think like that. These things take time."

"Four years! I have waited four years just for any information about him! And then they came along and gave me this _stupid_ hope," Mokuba said, but he couldn't finish the sentence.

The hand that was free from Roland's grasp flew to cover his eyes to keep the man from watching him sob. His body shook as Roland pulled him closer until he could hold Mokuba in a tight embrace.

A part of Mokuba's mind wondered if Roland was irritated that he had two babies to take care of. He moved from one crying child to the next. Did it bother him?

But when the phone rang and Olivia didn't ask Roland to answer it, Mokuba was relieved. He wasn't sure what he would do if Roland were to let go of him. Roland's hug kept Mokuba from collapsing to the floor, a position he was certain that he would be unable to bring himself up from.

However, it did annoy Mokuba that Roland was trying to keep up the appearance that Seto was still alive. If Mokuba could accept it, then Roland should as well. Pretending was a torture that Mokuba knew he couldn't handle.

"Roland, the phone is for you," came Olivia's quiet voice from the kitchen.

Mokuba felt Roland turn his head to face his wife. "Now isn't a good time. Can you take a message?"

Mokuba made an attempt to stop crying, but all it accomplished was giving him the hiccups. That alone almost proved that Mokuba was still the child he had been when Seto was kidnapped. Had he aged at all in that time?

"Dear, I really think you should answer the phone," Olivia said more forcefully.

"I can't. Take a message."

With his head buried on Roland's shoulder, Mokuba couldn't see Olivia. But just from her sharper tone, Mokuba could tell that she was serious. He pushed himself back and rubbed his hands under his eyes to wipe the tears away. "You can go," he choked out.

"No, you need me here."

Roland might have been about to say something else, but Olivia cut in.

"Roland!" she shouted.

Mokuba had never heard her scream before, and judging from the wide eyes he saw on Roland, neither had he.

Olivia's eyes had widened too, which made her seem as if she had actually never had screamed in her life. Her hands fluttered up around her head nervously, and she began to tuck fallen pieces of blonde hair back into her braid.

"Roland dear, please answer the phone," she corrected shakily.

"It's okay," Mokuba said.

Roland watched the teen as he stood up. "I will be right back," he assured.

Both Roland and Olivia left the room, leaving Mokuba alone once more. His eyes immediately drifted to the fireplace, staring at the ashes of the only thing to bring him comfort in years.

He couldn't bear to look at it. So Mokuba gently closed his eyes, taking several deep breaths as tears continued to flow down his cheeks. The occasional hiccup escaped his lips, but he kept his breathing steady so that maybe they would stop.

Even with his eyes closed, the fire still had his attention. It was the sounds that drew him in now that his vision was cut off. The crackles and pops it emitted started to form into a song.

Mokuba shook his head. Not a song, he realized, but maybe a lullaby. It carried the same soothing notes found in most lullabies, and with his eyes closed, it did feel like it was trying to put him to sleep. The grasp Mokuba had felt earlier still remained, only now it seemed to be rocking him gently. Maybe falling asleep would help him to feel better, to forget, even just for the short time, that he truly was alone.

Mokuba became so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't hear Roland reentering the room. With Roland's sudden words, Mokuba snapped out of his daze.

"They found him," Roland said.

"What?" Mokuba asked. He still was under the influence of the fire and didn't understand the statement.

"They found him. They found Seto."

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><p>Hopefully I'll have the next chapter up in less than a week!<p> 


	11. Chapter 11

**Important Author's Note at the bottom!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Eleven:<strong>

Corwin and Granlil were waiting at the door. Mokuba stared at them as they drove past, trying one more time to get Roland to let him out at the door. But Roland made him wait until the car was parked so that they could enter together. Mokuba protested heavily, but Roland explained that he still feared Gozaburo might have men waiting for Mokuba to be alone. So Mokuba crossed his arms and sighed impatiently.

Roland had a hard time keeping up with the teen from the moment he turned off the car to the words, "Where is he?" that Mokuba demanded upon reaching the entrance.

Corwin held open the door to allow Mokuba to enter before the others. In Mokuba's mind, they seemed to be moving far more slowly than usual. Was there a reason for that? Their steps, Roland's included, were dragging. Mokuba did not know where he was supposed to be going and was forced to move at the same agonizing pace as the men.

Finally, they came to a stop entirely. Corwin and Granlil turned to speak directly to Mokuba, only casting the occasional glance in Roland's direction.

"Before we go in, there are some things you should know," Corwin said.

Mokuba felt like pulling out his hair. "It can't wait?"

His question was ignored. "Seto is not the same person anymore," Granlil began.

"No freaking duh," Mokuba spat, sounding far more childish than he had intended. "He has been tortured for four years. I'm not expecting him to be the same. Will you let me see him now?"

"He won't speak to us or even acknowledge when someone is in the room," Granlil continued.

"His letters say that he stopped talking. I already knew that. Let me see my brother."

"You can see him, but I don't know if they will let you in the room," Corwin said, and he opened the door.

The room they entered was an observation area for two interrogation rooms. The two walls on either side of Mokuba were made of glass. He assumed that they were one-way mirrors.

There were other people standing around, but Mokuba barely noticed them. If there was anyone in the other interrogation room, it escaped his knowledge. His eyes had locked on his brother.

Seto sat in the one chair in the gray room. His head was lowered so that it he stared blankly at his lap. He didn't move as a woman knelt next to him. Mokuba couldn't hear her, but it seemed as though she was gently trying to coax him into speech. Mokuba didn't look at her long enough to take in any details of her appearance. He was focused on Seto.

Four years hadn't really changed the way Seto looked. He was still as thin as before. His hair still fell around his face, though Mokuba noted that it was longer and seemed to have been trimmed by untrained hands. Seto's back was perfectly straight, just as Gozaburo had always made him sit.

He didn't look like he was aware of his surroundings. Just two small details let Mokuba know that Seto's brain was still active inside what otherwise appeared an empty body.

The woman laid her hand on Seto's shoulder and he flinched. Although she instantly removed her hand, Seto remained leaning away, as if afraid she would do it again, but knowing better than to run.

The second thing was Seto's hands. They were resting in his lap, but also slowly rubbing the hem of his shirt. Mokuba couldn't be certain, but it was the likely subject of Seto's gaze.

Mokuba crossed his arms, then lifted a hand to cover his mouth. Too many words were fighting to spill out, yet he knew that if he tried speaking, he would be unable to withhold tears. The last thing he wanted was to have red, puffy eyes when Seto saw him.

"Where was he?" Roland asked.

"In a house just outside of the city," Corwin answered.

"Was he like this when you found him?" Roland asked. He, like Mokuba, stared through the glass. He didn't break his examination of Seto while he spoke.

"He was more responsive back at the house, though not to the point of speech."

Mokuba pressed a fingernail against the skin underneath his chin to distract himself from the threatening onslaught of tears. He wanted to ask a question without breaking down.

"Was he wearing that?" Mokuba finally managed to ask.

"I don't see how that-" Granlil began, only to be silenced by Mokuba's sharp words.

"Was. He. Wearing. That." His words bore no semblance to a question. It was nothing more than a demand for an answer.

"No. He wasn't wearing those."

Mokuba didn't ask for further clarification. From Corwin's tone, he received all he needed to know. Seto had been given those clothes because he had none before.

"How did you find him?" Roland asked.

"The man behind you, Jim Grayson, told us where Seto was being kept."

"How'd he know?" Mokuba asked.

"He had been hired by Seto's kidnapper, Arden Haru, to act as a guard. Apparently, there was an argument, so he turned in Haru."

Mokuba broke his gaze to look back through the other pane of glass.

The man inside was large, thick-built, and carried a dark glare in his eyes. He was alone, and unlike Seto, he stared straight ahead. His hands were cuffed to the table.

Mokuba only gave him a few second examination before turning back to Seto. He had gotten the general aura that surrounded the man. He was meant to be intimidating. Mokuba didn't want to see him anymore.

The woman in the room with Seto took a breath so deep that it was visible. Her mouth moved as she said something, then left the room.

A few seconds later, she walked into the room with Mokuba.

"I can't get anything out of him. I doubt he can hear me," she said. She then noticed Mokuba and Roland staring in at Seto.

"You're the brother," she stated. The woman took a few steps closer and extended a hand. "I'm Malorie Waters."

Mokuba took her hand and answered, "Mokuba."

Roland introduced himself before Waters spoke again. "This is a very common reaction to his situation. I see it quite often. He will open up, but it could take a while."

"And he will need therapy?" Roland asked.

"Yes. Therapy and a familiar environment will help."

"If he needs familiarity, shouldn't Mokuba go in to speak to him?"

Mokuba's body grew rigid. He could feel the eyes of all in the room staring at him as he stared at Seto. Now that the opportunity presented itself, Mokuba was unsure if he would be able to face his brother. He assumed that Waters had been trained in dealing with these situations. If she couldn't get through to Seto, what hope did he have?

"Well," Waters began. "That might help, but Mokuba, you couldn't show him how upset you are. You have to be strong for him."

"I won't cry or anything," Mokuba said, feeling confident that he could held himself together.

"You can't say anything that might make the situation worse. Don't tell him how long he has been missing. Don't discuss his age. Don't mention Haru. Don't touch him."

Waters continued her list of how Mokuba was not to act. The longer she went on, the more anxious he became. There was no way that he would remember all of the guidelines, but he nodded as though he understood them all. It seemed absurd that he had to be told how to speak to his brother. Mokuba just knew that his Seto was still in there somewhere. But was he the person who could bring him out?

"Can you do that?" Waters asked.

"Yeah," Mokuba whispered.

"Then come with me."

Mokuba took a step and stopped, spinning to Roland, "What if he doesn't recognize me?"

"Mr. Kaiba, he will. Go," Roland said. He gave Mokuba a small push in the right direction.

Mokuba hesitated outside the door. He couldn't do it, not with all those rules he had been given. Seto had been gone too long. He missed so many years during which Mokuba had changed, a great deal of that change was physical. Mokuba was taller. His face had lost all of his excess weight. He cut off most of his hair according to Gozaburo's orders, and he knew that he no longer had his innocent air. Though Seto looked the same, Mokuba did not.

Waters stood patiently with her hand on the doorknob. Mokuba had the sudden desire to read over his brother's letters, even though the author was only a few feet away.

"Are you sure you can do this?" Waters questioned.

Mokuba realized that she was nearly ready to keep him out of the room. He nodded quickly to prevent her from changing her mind. A few nerves wouldn't keep him from seeing Seto.

As she opened the door, Mokuba clasped his hands together and nervously moved forward. Seto didn't react to the door opening. His eyes remained downcast as Mokuba inched closer.

He couldn't breathe. If not for his agreeing to stay strong while in front of Seto, he would have collapsed or burst into tears. Seto, _Seto, _was sitting so close that if Mokuba had been able, he could touch him.

That was a temptation for Mokuba that he nearly gave in to. He needed verification that all that was before him was real. After so long, Seto was back. He was alive, mostly.

"Hey Seto," Mokuba said quietly. He was overly aware of the men on the other side of the mirror watching and listening. This was a moment he would have preferred to spend without anyone else present, but there was nothing to be done about that. Mokuba could only push them to the back of his mind.

Seto didn't move. Mokuba understood what Waters meant when she said that she didn't believe Seto could hear her. Mokuba felt as though his words went unheard.

But a thought occurred that Mokuba realized could explain the problem. Seto had stopped signing his name at the bottom of the letters years ago. Maybe he didn't answer to his name anymore because it was what his kidnapper had called him.

Mokuba decided to try something else.

"Hey big brother," Mokuba said a bit louder, though he swallowed nervously after speaking.

Seto reacted to that, though only in the smallest of ways. If Mokuba had not been so intently studying him, then he might not have seen the movement. He barely caught the gentle lift of his brother's chin, which was only high enough so that Seto could stare at the table instead of his hands. Along with that, his eyes opened a fraction more, a sign that he had begun to listen. The words had triggered something within his mind.

Mokuba began to search for something else to say that would pull Seto further out of his daze. His hands started to shake when he saw that he drew a response out of his brother. He needed to keep going, but didn't want to say anything that would relate back to his time with Haru. Since he knew little about it, anything was a risk.

When he decided on his next sentence, Mokuba took a moment to settle down before saying, "I got your letters."

He continued to move towards Seto, only stopping when he was standing at the edge of the table closest to his brother. It left around two feet between them, which in Mokuba's mind was two feet too many.

More slowly than Mokuba thought possible, Seto's head started to move upwards. Though once his head was up, he had to turn to see who was in the room with him.

Their eyes met. For several minutes, they just stared at each other. Mokuba found his breathing to be erratic, while Seto didn't appear to be breathing at all. Seto looked at his brother without speaking, but Mokuba saw his present state. The blank haze in his eyes had vanished; Seto was aware.

Eventually, Seto broke their gaze and began to turn his head to either side, examining his surroundings. Seto's eyes flickered from one wall to the next, purposely ignoring his reflection in the glass.

When his eyes dropped back down, his hands, which had not ceased rubbing the shirt, moved to clutch at the material. Seto pulled the fabric away from his skin and stared at it for almost as long as he had looked at Mokuba. While one hand held the shirt, the other one began to rub it again, more urgently this time.

Seto continued feeling the shirt as he looked back to Mokuba. His eyes darted around a few more times before locking onto his brother's.

Mokuba waited for Seto to say something. Traces of panic had eased its way onto Seto's features as he opened his mouth and tried to form a word. He had to try several times before a choked and raspy "Mokuba?" slipped through his lips. The word was forced, but the apparent surprise made Mokuba have a difficult time responding.

"Yeah, big brother. It's me."

Seto's mouth stayed open. He let his eyes drift from Mokuba's face to the rest of him, taking in what must have been a strange sight. Mokuba's earlier worries returned. If he didn't look the same, Seto wouldn't know who he was.

Mokuba couldn't handle it anymore. When Seto fell into silence again, he just knew that he had to do something. What he wanted to do was selfish and might hurt his brother, but within that moment, nothing could have stopped him.

"I know they said I wasn't supposed to touch you, but you're just going to have to suck it up because I'm going to hug you now." And Mokuba collapsed down to wrap his arms around Seto. Mokuba immediately regretted his decision, feeling his brother tense in his hold. But Mokuba held on, confident that Seto, his Seto, would emerge.

Seto didn't move. But unlike his reaction to Waters' touch, he didn't flinch away. It was as though Mokuba had frozen him in place with conflicting emotions. Seto recognized his brother, so he had to know that he was in no serious danger. However, after four years of unwanted contact, his mind had trained him to be wary of it.

Mokuba was about to give up when he felt Seto's hands slowly move behind his back. No pressure came along with the movement. Seto wasn't returning the hug as much as he was just allowing Mokuba to do as he wished. The hands didn't come into contact with Mokuba, but held the material covering his back.

They stayed like that for a long time. The exact time could have been anywhere from minutes to hours, Mokuba didn't know or care. He was more caught up in the relaxing breaths he felt coming from Seto's chest. While he had at first been breathing heavily, Seto was returning to normal.

If it had been in Mokuba's control, they wouldn't have pulled apart for another few months. But Seto's hands released their grip on Mokuba's shirt and moved to his stomach. From there, he gently pushed Mokuba away.

Their eyes met. Seto only moved his brother back enough so that they were able to meet each other's gaze. He immediately jerked his hands away.

But then, Seto raised his fingers to touch the side of Mokuba's face. If Mokuba had been unable to see the hand, he might not have noticed the touch, as it was very light. But Mokuba kept his eyes locked with Seto's as his brother slid his hands underneath Mokuba's nose and felt the breaths coming out.

"Mokuba," Seto said. It wasn't a question that time.

Mokuba brought his own hand up and squeezed Seto's hand. With that action, Seto closed his eyes and whispered, "I thought I was dreaming." Though it seemed like the words were directed to Mokuba, the younger Kaiba understood that Seto was speaking more to himself.

"I've had this dream so many times," Seto said, his words quieter than before.

"I know what you mean," Mokuba said. He suddenly had a rush of guilt pour over him. Why did he have to bring up his own problems? Seto wasn't ready to deal with anything aside from the damage done by Haru. Mokuba understood why Waters wanted him to keep the more upsetting emotions out of the conversation. Seto had too many problems of his own.

But Seto didn't acknowledge Mokuba's statement. "I'm . . . I'm really out?" he asked. Seto's eyebrows lifted slightly as he waited for an answer. He looked terrified.

Mokuba couldn't keep himself from nodding several times. "He was arrested. You're out."

Seto had to draw in shaky breaths in attempt to calm down enough to where he could speak. His fingers left Mokuba's face and returned to feeling the shirt he wore. He pulled it away from his chest and stared at it again.

"Whose clothes are these?" he asked while keeping his eyes on the fabric.

"I'm not sure. A cop, probably."

Seto nodded. "Were they trying to talk to me earlier?"

"Yeah, they were. Are you ready to talk to them?"

"No."

Mokuba put on a fake smile and said, "Would you like to talk to me?"

"Yes."

Mokuba had no idea where he was supposed to begin. He knew that it was important to keep Seto talking, and the one word responses weren't really helping. And it was going to be difficult without being able to discuss anything personal.

"Roland and his wife just had a baby," Mokuba said, hoping that his words were upbeat enough.

Seto blinked rapidly. "Roland is married?"

Mokuba clinched his teeth together to keep from groaning in irritation. Roland and Olivia had only been married for three years. Seto wouldn't have known that.

"Maybe you should ask the questions," Mokuba said.

Seto pressed his lips together and glanced over to the glass. For the first time, he seemed aware that there were others listening in.

He then looked back to Mokuba, still kneeling in front of him, and asked, "Are you okay?"

Mokuba snorted. "I'm freaking wonderful," he said. As soon as he spoke, he felt the tears trying to slip out. He had to roll his eyes to the ceiling to stop them.

For a short moment, the corner of Seto's mouth lifted. His face then fell back into his blank state.

"How long was it?" he asked.

"I'm not supposed to tell you that," Mokuba said. He realized that by telling Seto he wasn't allowed to say, he was probably defeating the purpose.

Seto's eyes narrowed. He began to chew at the bottom of his lip.

"How old am I?"

Mokuba couldn't hold back the smile. It was the first sign that Seto hadn't been lost entirely. Mokuba could tell that he was searching for a way around the rules set in place.

"I can't tell you that either."

"What day of the year is it?" Seto pressed.

"June 9," Mokuba responded, leaving off the year itself.

There was a small glint in Seto's eye that to anyone else would have been unnoticeable. But to Mokuba, it reinforced the fact that Seto was still there. His brother wasn't gone entirely.

"And how old are you?"

"I'm seventeen," Mokuba answered. There were no rules about him giving away his own personal information.

Seto closed his eyes. His lips parted as though he was in deep thought while he ran the numbers.

It was depressing, in a way, that Seto took so long to work out the math.

"I'm twenty-one?"

The expression on Seto's face proved to Mokuba that Waters was right when she told him not to let Seto know how old he was. That small detail let him know how long he had been missing for, how much of his life he had missed.

Mokuba changed the subject to a lighter one. "Yeah, we've got boatloads of parties to make up."

"We can't have parties," Seto said. His head tilted slightly to the side while he spoke, and Mokuba suddenly realized that Seto hadn't been told. He couldn't have been. He was too confused by the idea of having a party to know.

"Seto, Gozaburo was arrested too."

Seto's eyes almost seemed to burn. It was the most present expression Mokuba had seen on his brother's face. Yet, at the same time, Seto appeared dangerous.

"What did he do?" Seto asked, though from the expression, it seemed as though Seto already knew the answer.

Mokuba had no intentions of telling Seto the truth. In order to sell his lie, Mokuba answered immediately and in an even tone, "Your letters. You called him out."

The anger in Seto's eyes died down, but didn't disappear entirely. Seto still stared at Mokuba as if he knew his brother was lying.

Mokuba acted without thinking first. In seconds, his arms were back around his brother. Just like the time before, Seto grew rigid in his grasp. Mokuba allowed himself a moment to be selfish as he continued to hug Seto. He couldn't help it. He had come to an understanding that made him have to continue the hug.

Seto, the real Seto, _his _Seto, had returned only when he feared that Mokuba had been hurt. After everything Seto had gone through, his concern for Mokuba had not faded. Although his demeanor was different, his hair was different, his voice was different, his personality was different, and his intelligence was different, Seto had kept a strong grip on the one thing.

The only way Mokuba could thank him was through the hug.

"I'm so glad you're okay," Mokuba whispered.

A knock on the door drew Mokuba's attention, splitting his focus between Seto and whomever was at the door. Because he wasn't paying complete attention to Seto, Mokuba couldn't be sure if he actually heard Seto's next words correctly.

"I'm not."

He didn't receive the chance to ask.

Waters entered the room, followed by another woman. Both women carried chairs. While Waters sat her chair down across the table from the Kaibas, the second woman handed the one she held to Mokuba. When he had taken it, she left the room.

Mokuba set the chair as close to Seto's as he thought his brother would be comfortable with. He took a seat and Waters began to speak.

"If we start now, then we will finish sooner," she said, explaining her reason to interrupt.

"Seto, I'm Malorie Waters."

Unlike before, Seto met her eyes. He didn't respond though. Yet Mokuba saw that as progress.

"I'm just going to ask you a few questions and then we can be done for the day. Is that alright with you?"

Mokuba wrinkled his nose at her tone. She sounded as though she was speaking to a child, not an adult. She most likely meant it with good intentions, but it came across condescendingly.

"He isn't four," Mokuba said, knowing that Seto wouldn't step in.

Waters pressed her lips together, but forced a smile on her face. "Of course. I was just letting you two know that, for today, I only need to ask enough questions to ensure Haru is locked away."

"Who?"

Seto's question had been unexpected. Mokuba and Waters exchanged a glance which showed that they had the same thought on the surface of their thoughts. Waters showed her reaction through poorly concealed horror and by saying, "Arden Haru?" but phrasing it as a question.

When Seto still didn't show any signs that he understood who was being referred to, Mokuba said, "The man who kidnapped you."

Seto lowered his head and mouthed a silent, "Oh."

Mokuba spoke before Waters could switch topics. "He never told you his name?"

When Seto met Mokuba's eyes, Mokuba could see that he was slipping back into the blank state he had been in before. Thinking quickly, Mokuba took Seto's hand into his own and held his gaze.

"I'm right here, big brother. Come back."

Seto closed his eyes and shook his head. "He wouldn't tell me," he stated.

Mokuba kept his mouth closed. He wanted to comment on how that explained Seto never naming the man in his letters, but realized it was pointless. Everyone listening could figure that out. More importantly than that, Mokuba was disgusted. He probably shouldn't have felt such a high level of disgust at that new knowledge, but for some reason, it almost seemed as sick as actually kidnapping Seto.

Waters took a deep breath. "Seto, I'm going to have to get you to identify him."

"What?" Mokuba exclaimed. "Why is that necessary?"

Keeping her voice steady, Waters answered, "We brought them in separately. The house was rented to Haru and Grayson said it was him, but we need Seto's word. Grayson could just be setting up another guard for all we know. I had hoped Seto would recognize his name and visual recognition wouldn't be necessary."

Seto remained perfectly still. On the surface, he appeared almost calm, but Mokuba still held his hand. He could feel the fast pace of Seto's heartbeat. It was pounding so rapidly that Mokuba was amazed it didn't show in the rest of Seto's body.

"He is a few rooms over. Would you like to do this now?"

Mokuba shook his head. "Can't you just show him a picture?"

Waters failed at hiding her annoyance with Mokuba's constant protests and outbursts. "Would you rather wait for someone to print out a picture, or walk over and be finished in seconds?"

Mokuba began to argue, but stopped when Seto spoke.

"I'll do it."

"Seto," Mokuba said, but no more words came to mind. He wasn't going to control Seto's actions, but having to face his kidnapper so soon after being found? He wasn't trained in the field, but that felt like a mistake.

"Will you come?" Seto asked. His fingers tightened around Mokuba's as he waited for a response. Mokuba saw the fear displayed on his face and couldn't say no.

They followed Waters out of the room, and Seto and Mokuba kept their hands connected. They didn't go back into the room where the detectives and Roland waited, but through a different doorway that led to more interrogation rooms.

"He can't see or hear you," Waters stated. She had walked out ahead and stood in front of the far pane of glass. From the door where they stood, it was impossible to see inside.

Mokuba had expected Seto to hesitate or change his mind. Both were rational reactions to facing a kidnapper and rapist.

But Seto did neither. He walked across the room to face Haru without wasting a moment.

Mokuba stopped walking, which stopped Seto. They ended up just far enough away that Mokuba couldn't see inside the other room.

"Are you sure?"

"Seeing him won't kill me," Seto said. "It should be simple in comparison."

Mokuba didn't ask what he was comparing it to.

As they approached the glass, Mokuba watched Seto's face instead of looking inside the other room. As much as he wanted to see the man who caused all the problems for the two brothers, he was more worried about Seto's reaction. Mokuba kept his tight hold on Seto's hand, ready to pull him away at any moment.

"That's him," Seto said.

Seto had returned to staring blankly ahead, but his hand began to squeeze Mokuba's to the point where Mokuba's hand fell numb.

Mokuba looked over and saw Haru for the first time.

Mokuba had often envisioned the man who kidnapped Seto. It was hard not to over the years. But when he had to create a face, it was nothing like the one sitting in the other room. Mokuba had chosen all the worst traits a person could have to assign to his rendition. The man he had pictured was hideous and fat, almost monster-like in form.

This man was too normal in appearance. Haru's hands, like Grayson's, were handcuffed to the table, but he had folded them neatly together. He wore a dress shirt and tie, which looked to have been ironed perfectly. He had recently shaved. Mokuba could tell because there were no signs of returning stubble. He still had a full head of hair, and it was styled in a professional manner. And he was tall, which was apparent even while he sat.

He could have been a random person from the street.

"Are we done?" Seto asked.

"Yes, for now. You will need to come back in a few days to go over some details, and I would like for you to sit down with one of our counselors," Waters answered. She held out a hand in gesture to the exit.

Seto didn't move, so Mokuba tugged gently on his arm. "Big brother, I'm sure Roland wants to see you."

Seto allowed Mokuba to lead him out of the room. His eyes remained on Haru for as long as they were able, then moved to his little brother.

"Why is Roland here?" he asked as they walked through the door.

"I'm living with Roland. He volunteered, this way I can stay out of foster care."

Nodding, Seto said, "That sounds like him."

They entered the room where Corwin, Granlil, and Roland were waiting. Their conversation died down when they saw Seto.

"Mr. Kaiba," Roland said. He walked over and stood in front of Seto, but didn't make an attempt to hug him. Roland appeared torn on what the proper action would be in greeting Seto.

"Thank you," Seto said, ending Roland's indecisive moment. "For helping Mokuba," he added.

Roland smiled at Seto, then Mokuba. He began saying something that Mokuba didn't pay attention to. He had noticed that Seto was shifting his shoulders in a way that signaled being uncomfortable with the situation. Seto stared at a far corner instead of listening to Roland. Since Seto was unlikely to speak for himself, Mokuba had to.

"Roland, can we get back? Mrs. Waters said that we could leave."

Seto gave Mokuba's hand a fast squeeze as if to say, "Thank you."

"Of course. I'll pull the car around."

Roland left and Mokuba followed after. As he and Seto passed the detectives, Corwin said, "It's great to see you Mr. Kaiba."

Seto met his eyes for a response. He wouldn't know who the men were or the time they had put into searching for him, but Mokuba did. Just before they left the room, Mokuba mouthed his thanks. He didn't know what else he could say to them.

When they reached the entrance, Mokuba was glad to see that there were no reporters outside. The return of Seto Kaiba would be a huge story for any paper, but clearly word hadn't leaked to the press yet. He would have to write every member of the department a thank-you note.

They waited inside for Roland to bring the car up to prevent any passersby from recognizing Seto and making a scene.

"So," Mokuba said, trying to fill the silence. "What do you want to do tonight?"

Seto shrugged. Mokuba realized that he wasn't going to receive an answer easily.

"We could watch one of my movies. You know, one of the ones where things blow up?"

Seto raised his eyebrows. "You really read them?" he asked.

"Probably more than was healthy," Mokuba admitted.

"I never thought you would," Seto said.

Mokuba could finally ask the question that had been buzzing in his thoughts ever since he was told about the letters. "Why did you leave them behind?"

Seto leaned back against the wall and looked out the large windows around the entrance. "Accident," he said quietly.

"Okay . . . " Mokuba said. He let the word trail off in hopes that Seto would elaborate.

Seto caught on. "I heard him enter the house and he was angry, so I hid the notebook under the mattress. He said we had to move, and he never gave me the chance to get it back before we left."

Mokuba tried not to get too excited at the length of Seto's answer. Though Seto was speaking more, Mokuba could see that he still was holding back. It was like a part of him hadn't processed being rescued. Until that happened, Mokuba didn't think that Seto would be able to begin his recovery.

Mokuba didn't respond, but hugged Seto again. He ignored the fact that Seto continued to grow tense at his touch. Eventually, Seto would wake up, really wake up, and remember that it was his little brother, not Haru who was touching him.

"You don't have to lie to me," Seto said.

Leaning back, Mokuba asked, "What do you mean?"

During the hug, Seto had found a scar running down Mokuba's arm. His finger ran up and down its length while his gaze did the same.

"Oh. I don't want to talk about me."

"You're all I want to talk about," Seto said. Mokuba was taken back by the force Seto's words carried. Mokuba felt as though Seto was giving him no choice in the matter. It was surprising, but the sentiment made Mokuba smile.

"I love you, big brother," Mokuba said, ashamed that he hadn't said that many, many times already.

The next hug was initiated by Seto. Seto's hands shook in their positions around Mokuba's body, a sign that he fought himself for the contact. But he held on.

"Thank you, Mokie."

Even though Seto didn't actually reply with an "I love you" of his own, Mokuba understood it to be there. Seto was doing his best to show it, and that meant more than the words ever could.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> I always planned on ending the story here. Always. I've had this scene worked out since the first chapter, and it always felt like the perfect ending place. So this is "the last chapter." I put that in quotes because I have another scene written. It is completely written and ready for upload, however, I'm going to wait.

I realized in the writing of this chapter and the one before that I needed explanation for lots of the things that Seto says and has written in his letters. It all makes sense to me, but that is because I know what is happening on Seto's end. Because of this, I've decided to write the story from Seto's point of view. When I get that ready for upload, I'll post the bonus scene for this story. That way if you are interested in reading From Seto, you'll be notified when I publish it.

Thank you to all my reviewers. I know that I don't respond to reviews like a lot of writers, but you all should know how much every review meant to me. I never expected a response like the ones you gave, and I really appreciate you all!


	12. Bonus

**Bonus Chapter:**

Mokuba woke to darkness. He had a feeling in his chest that was a familiar one. Something was wrong.

He reached out a hand, feeling for the lamp on his side table. His fingers found the switch, and he turned it on.

Mokuba had to close his eyes at the sudden brightness. It took several moments, but when he finally felt that his eyes had adjusted enough, he cracked them open.

At first, the only thing he saw was the numbers on his clock, a glowing green 3:07 AM. Mokuba rubbed a hand over his eyes, trying to wake up enough to look around the room.

He wasn't expecting to see anything. Mokuba often had nightmares that would pull him out of his sleep and leave that burning sensation in his chest. He knew he was paranoid from all the times it had happened before. There had never been anything in his room.

The last thing he expected was to see his brother sitting on the recliner beside the window. Seto didn't appear to have noticed the light coming on. He just stared out, though Mokuba doubted that he was looking at anything in particular.

"Seto?" Mokuba said. His word came out slow, a clear sign of how tired he was.

Seto glanced over. Mokuba noticed that Seto also had to squint into the light.

"Why are you awake?" Seto asked.

"Well, I was asleep. You look exhausted."

"I'm fine, kiddo. Go back to sleep."

"No," Mokuba said, feeling stubborn in addition to more alert. He pushed himself up on his elbows to get a better look at his brother.

Seto really did look exhausted. Even in the ill-lit room, the redness of his eyes could be seen, accompanied by dark rings below. He slouched, a strange posture to be seen on the once proud Kaiba. Each blink that Seto look lasted a moment too long, as if his body wanted sleep, but his mind refused to let him drift.

"Seto, what are you doing?" Mokuba asked.

"Just thinking. You really should go back to sleep."

"But why aren't _you_ asleep?"

"Have you ever wondered what might have happened?" Seto asked. He turned his head back at a slight angle to the window. The dim light from the street lamp contrasted with the light beside Mokuba, giving Seto's face a hollow appearance.

"Of course I have."

"What would be different, do you think?"

Mokuba blinked at his brother's question. He wasn't sure that he understood.

"I never would have gone to the police," Seto continued. He shifted to lift his legs up into the chair. He wrapped his arms around his legs, almost pulling himself into a ball. His eyes moved to the floor as he went on. "You are so much braver than I am. We would still be with him."

Mokuba kept silent. He mind felt like it was spinning. Seto seemed to be implying that there was a positive side to his kidnapping.

So Mokuba threw his legs over the edge of the bed. The air in the room was cold against his bare feet, so he grabbed the blanket off the bed and pulled it tightly around him. He then walked over to Seto and sat on the arm of the recliner.

"Everything I have ever done was for you, and if this helped-"

"Seto, stop."

Mokuba hated seeing his brother in such a position. Seto resembled a child, trying to comfort himself through his own embrace.

But Mokuba had to remind himself that Seto had been kidnapped at seventeen. No matter how mature Gozaburo had tried to make him, Seto had been young. He hadn't mentally aged in his time away, if anything, he lost several years. If Mokuba tried to picture being in Seto's place, he knew he would be in much worse shape.

"Seto, you never should have gone through that," Mokuba said. The words felt dry on his tongue. They were so cliche that there was almost no meaning.

"I'm not saying that I would do it again, but look at the end result."

Mokuba, from his higher position, was looking down on his brother. He knew that under no circumstances would he see any positive outcome. Seto was radiating his broken nature. Nothing could make Seto's torture worthwhile.

"Big brother, why are you talking like this?"

Seto shook his head slowly. Before he spoke, Mokuba began again. "It's over. Haru and Gozaburo are in prison. We don't have to worry about it anymore."

Mokuba moved a hand out from under the blanket and put his hand on Seto's shoulder. The degree to which Seto flinched proved to Mokuba that his brother was still terrifed.

"I don't feel like it's over," Seto whispered.

It all clicked inside Mokuba's mind. He suddenly understood why his brother was so tired, why he was acting so strange, and why Seto was sitting near him while he slept. Mokuba felt terrible that he hadn't noticed it before.

"You haven't slept, have you?"

"I can't," Seto said. He shook his head slightly as he turned his face down.

"You're awake, Seto. This is real," Mokuba said. He tried to sound reassuring, but he was so upset with himself, he doubted the proper tone came through.

"If I wake up and I'm back in that room-" Seto began, but his sentence was cut short by a choked end.

"Scoot over," Mokuba said. Seto just stared up, finally meeting Mokuba's gaze. He didn't move, so Mokuba had to push his brother to the other side of the recliner.

Seto seemed startled, but didn't protest as Mokuba slid off the arm and onto the seat.

"Okay, we are way too big for this," Mokuba muttered as he tried to fit down beside Seto. He ended up on his side, facing his brother. He knocked Seto's legs down, breaking his brother's grip on them. Mokuba wrapped his arm around his brother, giving him something else to hold on to.

"Seto, please sleep. I promise that when you wake up, I'll be here."

"Mokuba, I really can't," Seto insisted.

Mokuba laid his head down on his brother's shoulders. He felt the stiff position of Seto's body, but ignored it. Seto couldn't help his reactions to touch.

"I would die. If this turns out to have been a dream, it would kill me."

"Trust me. We will both wake up right here."

Exhaustion grew inside Mokuba's body. He tried to fight it off. Mokuba wanted to make sure that Seto fell asleep before he did. But it was too late, and he had woken up before his body had the time it needed.

"You sound so sure," Seto said.

"I've done it three times already," Mokuba said, but he wasn't sure if Seto understood. His words had been more mumbles than words.

Mokuba closed his eyes and when he opened them, the sun was shining through the slits in the blinds. Mokuba's head had fallen slightly while he slept, so it pressed against Seto's chest. The slow, rhythmic rising and falling let Mokuba know that at some point in the hours before, Seto had drifted to sleep.

Mokuba wanted to wake Seto up and proudly show him that it had not been a dream. He was eager to see his brother's reaction. Seto had to be happy, as he could finally see that there was nothing to fear.

But Mokuba remembered how exhausted his brother had been. As much as he might want to prove their reality, Seto needed to sleep.

Mokuba could wait. He was happy that his brother's arm was wrapped around his waist. Seto was back and maybe soon they would be able to return to how things were.

Mokuba fell back asleep, but was woken up by Seto jerking awake. He tried to push himself up, only to be stopped by Mokuba.

"It's okay! Look, I'm right here," Mokuba said. He leaned back so that Seto could see his face. "I'm right here."

Seto's head turned to scan the room before looking down at Mokuba. He lifted a hand to brush the hair out of Mokuba's eyes.

Mokuba nearly spoke again, but Seto removed his hand, turned his face away, and squeezed his eyes closed.

Seto began to cry.

Beneath him, Mokuba felt Seto's body trembling with sobs. The movements terrified him. Mokuba had never seen his brother cry until that moment. It was so shocking of a sight that Mokuba couldn't decide how he was supposed to respond.

Mostly, Mokuba wanted to start crying as well. It was _wrong _for their positions to be so inverted. Seto was supposed to be the strong one while Mokuba cried. It wasn't supposed to be the other way around.

"B-big brother?" Mokuba whispered. He cursed himself for studdering, but he needed to make sure that the man he clung to was in fact his brother. This just couldn't be Seto. Mokuba's brother was so independant and powerful, but this?

Mokuba touched a tear rolling down Seto's neck. It was warm against his fingers, a very real feeling.

Maybe what scared him so much was the silence his brother still possessed. It was as though he tried to repress any sounds. Crying was weakness, and Seto never had been able to voice his weaknesses.

And that told Mokuba that it was still his brother. The idea dawned on him that perhaps, Seto had not cried throughout the duration of his capture. Seto was very likely to have held in the tears that had built up over the last four years.

If that was actually the case, then Seto had to get them out. Now that he knew it was really over, there was no need to be devoid of emotion. Everything he had hid away was pouring out of his eyes.

Mokuba understood that he didn't need to say anything. The best he could offer his brother was not acknowledging his weakness. Seto would be strong again, and when he was, he would want the current moment to be forgotten. None of the positive aspects would be remembered. It wouldn't matter that he gained the knowledge that he was out. He wouldn't care that Mokuba was actually right beside him.

All Seto would remember was that he broke. So the most Mokuba could do was pretend it never happened.

But Mokuba would remember. He would remember it as the moment that Seto began his recovery.

* * *

><p>End.<p>

I hope you all enjoyed Dear Mokuba ( to the extent that one can enjoy a sad, depressing story). Don't forget that the sister story, From Seto is now uploaded. Please go check it out!

Thanks again for all your support throughout the course of this story. I loved receiving your feedback and talking to many of you over messaging. You guys are the best.


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